


The 6 Months Peter Parker was Dead

by Spongeekat



Category: Avengers (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Identity Reveal, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Peter Needs a Hug, Superfamily, Tony and Steve are sad parents, Wade is a romantic sap, a lot of tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9641525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spongeekat/pseuds/Spongeekat
Summary: Flames licked the air around Peter, and a terrible heat spread over his entire body. He was sweating and shaking before he even ran into the blanket of fire. People cried out for him to stop, including one of the officers that had taken off after him. His eyes locked onto the charcoaled room that would serve as his grave, and before concerned bystanders could stop him, he had ducked inside the sea of red.--Peter is forced to fake his own death to save the lives of the people he cares for. Now having to live full-time as Spider-Man, Peter has to watch the recovery of those he left behind, including his fathers Steve and Tony, boyfriend Wade, and Uncle Bruce, the only one allowed to know he is still alive.Easier said than done, when you have to bear witness to your own funeral with your family in tears surrounding you.





	1. The Five Stages of Grief

“Peter, please.” 

Bruce’s pleading was wasted on dull ears, the voice sounding distant. Peter’s mind was throbbing. The burning embers kissing the windows and doorway of the home pulsed in his vision. People screamed somewhere far off around him. Firetrucks blared loudly beside him. Yet the one sound that was most prominent to him right then was the roaring of the fire. His head told him this was a terrible option, and he should stay clear of the building’s burning red doorframe. He felt a hand creep onto his shoulder, twisting him firmly. Peter caught sight of calm eyes staring back down at him, though the usual composure of the scientist before him had broken. Blood dripped steadily down his cheeks, and Peter could see the wires of the bomb strapped to his chest creeping up from under his shirt. A grim reminder of the consequences of his actions, if he chose not to go through with this. 

The creaking of another room collapsing in on itself pulled him from his mystified haze. Glancing over his shoulder, the mansion was standing on its final legs. His window of opportunity was running short. There was a tunnel in the basement open only for so long, and Peter would lose his chance to disappear into it if he didn’t make quick decisions. 

A man screamed from the second floor for help. Peter wasn’t sure if he was placed there by Harry, or if he was an actual tenant of the home that Harry had assured would be trapped to give Peter an alibi for running in. Either way, the fire truck's ladder wasn’t operating, and the man was stuck. 

“Don’t think about me for a second.” Bruce’s soothing tone was closer to Peter this time, and his hands were tightly keeping him from making a move towards the home. “Think about yourself. It would be better for me to die than you. Remember your fathers. Remember New York. All the people that love and depend on you. The people that would be devastated.” 

_Who?_ The thought left Peter’s mouth dry. He couldn’t deny Tony and Steve would be left shocked, but thinking logically, both of his previous sets of parents and the one girl he’d ever loved were already gone. And superheroes lost people all the time. What did his life really matter… 

But Bruce. Uncle Bruce mattered. Peter glanced shortly up at his worn face from the abuse he’d taken all afternoon from the Green Goblin. Harry Osborn had made his appearance at the science convention Bruce and Peter had gone to in place of Tony. The look of disbelief on his Uncle’s face when Peter had shot out a web to defend them had stuck in his mind. Peter fought hard. He hadn’t won. Harry had taken one of the superhumans along with him with traps charged with enough electricity, Peter had even passed out despite his super strength and resistance. And the horror he felt to waking up with Bruce beaten and bloodied, covered with explosives, had felt grimly similar to watching Gwen fall to her death 2 years ago. He couldn’t go through that again… he couldn’t watch another person in his life die because of his identity. 

Windows shattered above them as glass crackled against the sidewalk. Peter was pushed slightly backwards into Bruce from the momentum of the crowd backing up. Bruce held him tightly in his arms, and Peter could feel his unwillingness to let go. He wished he could stay that way with him, unprepared to face the horror that was his tomb behind them.

“I know you think it’s your only option. But Peter, you have so much more to live for besides just being Spider-Man. You can’t limit yourself. You can’t lose your family. You can’t lose Wade.” 

Wade. He would be devastated. He and Peter had agreed they would take each other out when it came down to it, because neither wanted to be alive alone. His promise ring sat heavily on his finger. Peter slowly reached down and slipped it off, pressing it tightly into Bruce’s hand. “Keep it for me.” His voice ruptured through his chest, searing his lungs. His throat felt tight, like he would break down any moment. However, he didn’t feel the immediate need to cry. He just felt numb. 

_Harry hated Peter. He didn’t have to scream it at him a thousand times to get the point across. He could see it in the eyes of his ex-best friend. He could see how Peter had broken him with his refusal to be the experimental drug for Norman. He had promised to do what he could to help the man he’d grown up with, but Norman had taken matters into his own hands and was too far gone for Peter to save him in the end. And then there was the night Norman had killed himself in a horrible accident, impaling himself on his glider when he had tried to kill Spider-Man. This fueled Harry’s inexplicably strong hate, and Peter had no way to confess that he hadn’t caused the loss of his father. In his eyes, while he knew it was horrible mistakes leading up to this, he accepted the blame for ruining his friend._

_“You don’t deserve your fathers.”_

_Peter had been electrocuted to the point he felt his body was always shaking, sweat dripped down his face, and burn marks appeared over his skin. He was in no shape to attempt an escape from the Goblin, especially with Bruce covered in explosives and not currently able to go green. He wouldn’t risk his life in a gamble._

_“Little Spidey wants to take away my father, my future, and won’t help save me or my father’s life. All we wanted was your goddamn BLOOD.”_

_“Harry, this isn’t you.” Peter had seen his darkest days through every disagreement with his family. Yet, he had still never been dimmed enough that the fire had went out. Now, it seemed only black voids filled his eyes. “Let me help you.”_

_“No, that offer has expired. Sadly enough for you!” Another shock. Peter collapsed to his side on the floor, his chest spasming painfully as he tried to catch his breath and his heart threatened to kill him in protest. “You’re on my terms now. And that is somewhere you don’t want to be.”_

“Be careful. Get the bombs off as soon as possible.” Peter brushed away Bruce’s arms from his body, taking a few steps backwards. He could see the worry spike on Bruce’s face, but Peter had his back facing him before Bruce could say another word. He ducked under the police tape at the front lines. A fireman made a shocked sound to his right and made to grab him,, but he easily dodged his arms. He sprinted towards the home before anyone had really noticed he’d broken through, though his feet slowed to a stop in the actual doorway of the house. Flames licked the air around him, and a terrible heat spread over his entire body. He was sweating and shaking before he even ran into the blanket of fire. People cried out for him to stop, including one of the officers that had taken off after him. His eyes locked onto the charcoaled room that would serve as his grave, and before concerned bystanders could stop him, he had ducked inside the sea of red.

_Harry had given him an ultimatum. “I won’t kill you.” He cackled sadistically from behind his green pointed mask, hovering over Peter’s broken frame on the floor, his body twitching from another round of electrocution that was making his logical mind thinner. “I want you to kill yourself. Peter Parker will die from this world either way.”_

_Peter was riddled with confusion, and trying to pick himself up off the floor only left him dazed and in a heap once more. His limbs seemed to stop obeying him as well._

_“So I have a choice for you, Spider-Man.” A single green finger blinded him, his mind engorged with static hardly able to take in the details of it wavering in his eyes. “I’ll set off the toys attached to your dear Hulk, reveal your identity to the world, and just as you return to normal life with Dear old Dad’s, I’ll come for you. You won’t see me coming. But I’ll take a piece of your life one by one, rip them to shreds and send you videos to commemorate, until you end your pathetic existence yourself.”_

_“Don’t listen, Peter.” Bruce spoke softly, though his prompting didn’t defeat the threats of Harry._

_“Two.” Another green finger dug into Peter’s forehead, pushing sharply at his temples as his neck arched painfully back. “You will leave your life as dear old Parker, and leave your Dads childless. You are a part of the Avenger’s now, aren’t you? How is hiding your identity from them? I hope you find it easy, because Spider-Man will be the only life you live. And you’ll suffer each day watching them in pain, knowing they couldn’t save you. And dear Hulk will live. So long as you trust him to keep a secret.” He paused, tauntingly, and withdrew his fingers from the teen’s forehead. Peter stared wide-eyed at the floor in front of him, feeling a shakiness taking over his body that wasn’t caused by the electricity. He couldn’t hurt his Dads this way. Either way was a terrible punishment for them._

_And with Harry counting down from 5 for him to choose before he killed Bruce as a way to make him decide faster, he was shouting out “Two! I’ll do the second one!” with panic clear in his voice._

_Peter could see the heartbreak on Bruce’s face. Peter was selfish. He knew he couldn’t do this to Steve and Tony, but he wasn’t going to put everyone he knew in danger._

A bomb went off in the doorway, nearly throwing Peter into a half-destroyed piano from the force. Peter shot arms over his head as dust and debris shot his way, covering his face and hair with ashes. The side of the building had begun collapsing, beams falling through the ceiling and cracking loudly against the ground. He navigated his way towards the kitchen, the further point in the house from the source of the fire, purposefully orchestrated by Harry. He knew he was watching him, timing this perfectly in a way that would prevent Peter’s plan from getting stopped. Peter also had no option to go back on this choice. 

A creaking sounded overhead, and the snapping of wood caught his attention. His hands immediately shot up to catch a burning beam that was hurtling towards him. The flames scorched his skin, but his adrenaline high distracted from the pain. He managed to throw it aside towards the living room as his only exit was completely blocked off. He sucked in a sharp breath to look down at his red hands, some of the skin burned away, though he couldn’t really focus on this now. 

He pushed his way down the staircase that led down to the basement, the air slowly growing thinner and easier to breathe. Peter hitched his backpack off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor, drawing out his suit. His eyes slipped across the fabric that would be his new prison sentence. There was no taking it off when he had to deal with reality. Peter, in this reality, was dead. 

He pulled off his current clothing, tossing it to the ground beside him. It was difficult to pull the spandex over his damp skin, but he eventually was zipping it and fixing his mask in place. That seemed to really set it into his body that he wouldn’t be returning that night from his trip with Bruce to a warm bed and a kiss on the forehead from Steve, with Tony trying to prove why it was a pointless convention and the two could learn anything they wanted to know from Tony himself. There’d be no family movie night like every Saturday, and Natasha wouldn’t tease him and Wade endlessly when Wade snuck in once Tony and Steve went to bed. He wouldn’t sneak out later in the night, and there’d be no more returning at unholy hours just before everyone in his house woke up with bruises he had to cover in concealer and long sleeve shirts to avoid questions.  
Peter was really losing his entire life. 

He turned towards the tunnel beside him as he grabbed ahold of his backpack, slinging it back over his shoulder. With a faltering confidence he slipped into the badly carved dirty path. His foot kicked the detonator he’d been told would be there, which collapsed the end of the tunnel so it wouldn’t be found. And trapped in utter darkness in a hole that led Peter to god-knows-where, he crawled towards the beginning of a new kind of hell he wasn’t emotionally ready to face. 

\--

_“Now being called a Reckless Hero, How the adopted son of Tony Stark lost his life in an attempt to save a woman trapped last Tuesday on the second floor of her burning home. 20 Year old Peter Stark was spending the day with a family friend when the young man apparently heard the cries of a man trapped on the second floor of his mansion. Firemen were unable to reach him before the stairs collapsed, and this seemed to be too much for him to take. He ran into the half-demolished building to try to help him, but a gas line exploded just as he entered. Police say they found a body that was badly burned and crushed under the rubble, but they are fairly certain it belonged to Peter. We talked to the fire chief that was on the scene at the time.”_

_“It was an unfortunate incident that my men were not prepared to deal with. Our truck ladder wouldn’t extend, and we couldn’t reach the man through his window. He ran past us and it took too long for any of us to realize he had gotten through. It’s something sad that we have to deal with when heroes like Spider-Man and Captain America run around and try to save people all the time. Normal people want to be heroes, too.”_

“We’ve received no comment from Tony Stark on the incident. More details to come as they’re uncovered.” 

The TV clicked off, and Peter was again basked in the silence of his empty apartment. He drew his legs up to his chest, resting back tiredly against the arm of his couch. Bruce had set him up so he was renting a furnished studio apartment, at least for the time being until he figured out what he would do. It had been surprisingly difficult adjusting to life on his own. Despite his roots of only living with Aunt May and Uncle Ben in an old, small home, he had grown quite accustomed to life in Stark Industries and the luxuries that came along with it. And of course he was never alone in the tower. Even when his 5+ family members were away from the home, he still had Jarvis. But now he was left completely by himself. 

Bruce hadn’t come to visit Peter yet. At least not in person. He’d left a new phone, clothes from his room, his laptop, his ring, and cash in a box on his counter while Peter was sleeping. He also texted Peter updates about upcoming Avenger’s meetings, though all Avenger’s activity had been postponed until further notice. Peter hadn’t heard anything about Steve and Tony yet, though he figured that was for the better. 

The depression of losing his family had hit him quite hard. No tears had been shed yet, but he felt empty. His life had been shattered apart by the man he used to consider his best friend, his relationship had been ripped from his hands, and he was left to live only as Spider-Man full time. He hadn’t brought himself to move from the couch he mostly slept on, much less go out for patrols. Besides, the temptation to burst into his old home and reveal that he had never really died and beg for forgiveness for lying to them would overwhelm him. He wasn’t strong enough for it yet. 

On his new smartphone, he navigated to the social media sites his family had kept up for him, all now switched to a remembrance page. Several people from highschool and college that had barely even known his name when he was alive had posted tribute statuses. Even his professors had reached out about the unfortunate death of their student. The name that stood out most viciously on the page was Flash. He was, according to his post, torn-up by Peter’s death, wishing he had been given the chance to apologize for his misbehavior all those years ago towards Peter. The fact that his death may have actually done good for a person made him want to laugh at the sour irony. 

The sinking feeling that disappearing from everyone’s lives may have actually served to lessen the burden of him on the people closest to him hadn’t left him yet. After all, how many of his family members had he seen murdered or close to it because of his genetics and powers? It was hard to ignore the thought when they were the only thing keeping you company during the day. 

Peter’s police scanner buzzed on low volume next to him on the cushions, and the words ‘Masked Red Man’ and ‘Shooting.’ immediately caught his attention. Wide-eyed, his fingers fumbled to turn it up. Apparently there was a hostage situation in the mall, and Wade was involved. The fact made Peter’s heart freeze in his chest. He’d been kill-free for a year and half since joining up with the Avenger’s alongside Spider-Man. He really hoped, in his heart, that hadn’t been broken. His chest ached as he pulled himself from the couch and tumbled over to his suit that laid out on his counter, holding it up before him. 

No more moping. He was going to have to face this head on. He was doing this to protect those he loved. 

\-- 

Spider-Man landed quietly onto the glass roof of the Manhattan mall, though hearing the calls of the crowd behind him, those watching had seemed to notice him. His fingers carried him over the rounded roof, eyes scanning inside for where the hostages were. He’d heard on the scanner the shooters had been spotted near the electronics store, and there may have been as many as 20 people trapped inside. He slipped his legs over a ledge to lower himself down another level, his body on high alert. As promised, when he reached that area, he saw a man standing with a loaded gun in the center of a broken escalator, with a group of a dozen people kneeling behind him. There were bound to be more shooters in another store, which Peter had to be careful not to alert, as to not risk any of the individual’s lives. 

He carefully removed one of the glass panels as warm air rushed out at him, calculating his strategy. Yelling below him indicated someone was on the phone, likely with the police, in one of the hidden stores beneath him. The hostages seemed to all be alive at least, though Peter was sad to know there had already been at least one casualty. He picked the angle at which he could quickly web the gun with one hand and grab the gunner with the other, which would hopefully be silent enough that he could then land in front of the hostages and body-block them until he’d taken out the three other gunman. 

Peter adjusted so that he’d have room to jump down once he’d webbed the man, reached out his hand carefully and-- 

“Who the fuck is that?!” 

His Spidey-senses ran shivers through his body, though not that he was in danger. No, following their eyes and the barrel of the gun, it was aimed at another figure hidden by darkness. His katanas were dragging on the ground, and nothing about this man seemed friendly or hopeful. Peter felt his heart freeze in his chest upon seeing him, a sharp pain forming in the back of his throat. Wade. The sight of him brought in an instant happiness that threw him completely off guard, though the grief overshadowed it in a moment when he’d realized that it meant nothing. They were still stuck miles apart. 

“Stop right fucking there or I’ll kill one of the kids!” Peter was torn back to the situation at hand. His eyes darted to look for the other gunmen, and he could see the tips of their machine guns poking out of the door of one of the stores. He counted 3, which meant one was still unaccounted for. 

Deadpool’s heavy steps didn’t falter at the threat, and Peter’s ears picked up on the clicking of a gun. It was time to make his move. 

A child screamed when Peter dropped down on them, which distracted the man aiming at Wade long enough that he heard his katanas scrape together. Peter turned his eyes in horror, expecting a maimed body lying on the floor, though he was met with the sight of a halved machine gun and the man bleeding from his nose from a hit to the face. Thank God.  
A whizzing of a bullet entered his ears and he immediately side-stepped it, and several others. He shot out his wrists as he caught one of the guns and ripped it towards him, jumping over the man as he tumbled with it and knocking him to the ground. Deadpool was beside him in an instant, sliding past a gun slamming down towards his head and pulling the criminal’s feet out from under him. Peter noted that Deadpool was dully silent compared to his normal banter and… Peter would give anything to hear just a hint of laughter in his voice. He turned his head at the hostages, pointing towards the exits. “Go to the police. You should be safe.” He said, calmly, hoping to keep them from panicking and trampling one another. His voice disguiser he’d invested into when he’d gotten invited to the Avenger’s buzzed softly in his mask, distorting his voice deeper. 

Peter cemented two of the shooters to the floor. His foot dug into the back of another as he wrapped web around his wrists to subdue him, and Deadpool seemed to be taking care of the other gunman. His heart beat rapidly as he slowly moved his eyes up to Wade’s mask, who didn’t return the look. He could see the tension in his body, the way his shaking hands ripped at the shirt fabric of the knocked out man to tie his hands, and Peter wanted to hug him. It hurt so terribly to be this close, but unable to do anything about the fact. His chest burned. “Dead--” 

“I have to go.” Deadpool stood from his work, looking over at the computer store. Peter followed his eyes, slowly, not wanting to look away from Wade, to see a man cowering behind a desk. “You can take care of him, right, Spidey?” 

Wade sounded so tired. Peter swallowed down the pain that took over his body as he nodded. 

And all he could do was watch him walk away with the other half of Peter’s heart, and he really felt sort of broken. 

\--

Peter had grown to loathe his Spider-Man costume in just the span of a week. The once symbol of hope for him and New York, he now felt it constricting and wrapping tightly around his limbs, giving him a sort of claustrophobia whenever he had it on. Without it, Peter wouldn’t have lost everything he cared for and currently be suffering the way he was without his family to guide him. The extent of it had yet to hit him, really. 

It wasn’t until he was called to Avenger’s tower on the 9th day that he had really begun to face the consequences of his decisions and how they had affected more than just him. 

“Please be weary.” Bruce spoke softly to Peter, clad in his suit. The elevator’s ascent seemed to take longer than it ever had. The ride to the top was making his heart beat louder with each passing floor. Sweat beaded on his neck beneath the mask, and he wanted to turn back desperately. The anxiety of having to face a household that didn’t include him in the floor plan any longer was growing to be too much, and he would be shocked if he survived the ride. “They’re still not in good shape. It’s been hard, and…” 

Peter slowly navigated his eyes to Bruce’s face, seeing his own exhausted expression. He looked guilty staring back at him, and Peter felt that was primarily his fault. “I can’t tell them, Bruce. I’m sorry. I can’t.” 

Bruce’s disappointed showed on his face, shaking his head slowly. “Harry Osborn is powerful, but your parents could handle the threat. Steve and Tony are heroes, just like you, and you don’t have to do this alone.” 

“Harry will kill you if they find out. You aren’t protected all the time. You don’t understand the influence he has here. You’d always be in danger, even here. And Harry would tell everyone who I am. Nothing good comes out of people knowing. Gwen-...” Peter paused, turning his own face towards the floor. “She died because of it. It would only put more risk on everyone here.”

“Peter, I’m not the one that matters here.” Bruce gently laid a hand atop Peter’s head, and the action seemed enough to make the older man choke up. “You’re only 20. You shouldn’t have to lose your entire life because you’re worried for me.” The elevator dinged to the top floor, and Peter felt his heart start to race, blood rushing through his ears. Oh God. He couldn’t walk into the meeting room yet. “I won’t say anything. This is your decision, and as much as I hate this, I won’t take that away from you. But just remember what this is doing to you.. And to them.” 

Peter wasn’t sure what that entailed. He hadn’t thought about it hurting them. Logically, he was sure it wouldn’t be easy… but his own feeling of inconveniencing everyone in his life made it harder to believe. 

Bruce’s hand seemed to hesitate over the door to the meeting room, which Peter noticed with a pang in his chest. He didn’t seem prepared to walk into the room with the dead teenager by his side and lie to their faces either. 

As they walked inside, Peter noticed the quietness that had settled over the Avenger’s. The only members that were already there were Clint and Wanda, who were silent on their phones. Nick Fury sat quietly at the end of the table as he nodded his hello to Spider-Man and Bruce, and Peter timidly took his seat. Bruce sat down across from him with a comforting look, though Peter’s haywire nerves set him on edge. 

His eyes trailed carefully towards Wanda, who hadn’t paid much attention to him. Memories of the two of them spending late, drunken nights giggling about relationships and Peter’s school life attacked his mind, and he pushed them back. Now wasn’t the time for nostalgia. He had a part to play. 

However, then there was Clint. He looked up at Peter when he felt his eyes, nodding with a forced smile that fell quickly from his lips. The tension in the room was extremely uncomfortable, and he knew that had only been the beginning. 

The door slipped open to the other entrance in the large meeting room. Thor stepped into the room, and when he laid eyes on Peter, he offered him a wide grin that took him slightly off guard. It did serve to ease him, which he was thankful for. His friendly face was one he had missed  
“Man of Spider. You have returned to us at a grave time.” Thor sat down heavily on his chair, making it creak under him, which was the loudest sound in the room thus far. “I apologize for the sadness. We have lost a dear friend.” 

Peter felt at a loss of a response. After all, he couldn’t just pretend it didn’t happen. He would seem like a terrible person. But on the other hand, he grew increasingly paranoid his voice disguiser would fail him.

“I explained the situation on the way over.” Bruce cut in, saving Peter from his conflict He had apparently been quiet a bit too long, and Thor was looking at him a curious expression. Peter nodded to confirm the statement, his lungs failing to give him the air needed to actually speak.

Natasha, Sam, and Scott made similar such appearances, all with Peter managing not to say a word. He had started to regret his decision to show up by then. Being in this close of proximity to all of them, knowing that they all had no idea it was him, and he’d never be able to talk to them the same… it was like a nightmare brought to life. He was suffocating on the overwhelming atmosphere of the room.

“Are Tony and Steve almost here? Or Deadpool?” Clint asked, dropping his feet to the floor from where they’d been perched on his chair. A frown was on his lips, and he glanced at the door. “Are we going to continue without them?” 

“We can get started.” Fury said as he sat up, pulling out a device from his pocket that plugged into the projectors in the center. “I’m sure they’ll show up eventually.”

An image popped up in the center of the table, projecting a base out onto it. Peter found it hard to focus. His thoughts were stuck on the fear of possibly having to see either of his parents. No matter how much he wanted to hear their voices, he felt it was better for him to not be so close to them. Fury was busy explaining the mechanics of a possible international Alien technology trading organization. Peter glanced back at it, trying to at least appear to be listening. 

Of course, this was cancelled out by the sliding door that lead to the old Stark-Rogers Family’s flat, as it clicked open. The entire room went deathly silent, 8 and a half pairs of eyes following the same path to gape. Two men dressed in clothes that they’d clearly worn to bed, hair a mess, and skin looking terribly pale entered the room, and Peter’s eyes widened. They looked almost unrecognizable. Tony had a pair of hangover glasses placed sloppily on his face, a glass in hand. Steve looked like he had tried to tame his hair, but had given up within seconds. They walked silently to their respective seats on the other end of the table, and as Tony passed, he felt his chest constrict. His eyes lingered a bit too long, and paranoia flooded his system. He could see his lips moving through his rushing mind, and the sound finally penetrated his shock to end up at his ears. 

“Welcome back, Spider-Man.” 

“Hey, Tony.” Peter finally managed to return as Tony passed him, breathing the words out painfully as they burned his lips. 

Tony froze at his chair, and Peter’s stomach flipped. The hope he’d be recognized and forcefully outed only lasted for a moment, because the prospect of them finding out and the entire plan being broken was a scarier outcome. 

Tony slowly sat down, refusing to look at Spider-Man as he did so. A pained look passed over his face. “You sounded just like him.” 

The words made Peter regret ever talking. His hands peeled away from the meeting table where his nails had been casually clawing the wood, dropping down to grip onto his leg. Did Tony mean Peter? His voice was deeper, but his inflection never changed. He hated himself for making a stupid mistake. 

But even more so, he couldn’t believe he had done that to Tony. 

He slipped down to his chair, and Spider-Man twisted to tear his eyes away from his Dads. This was a terrible experience.  
\--

Peter had been sitting on the hangar of the Stark Tower for close to an hour. At first, he’d just left to get fresh air and calm down his borderline-hyperventilating, unable to take the depression of the room. He’d just decided not to get up in the end, and his body proved to not let him. Despite his week and a half of sleeping and being sedentary on his couch to recover, he still felt exhausted. It was hard to want to get up when you knew your future and reasons for living had been torn away in a terrible manner. 

Inside, Fury was still briefing and discussing the plans. Wade hadn’t shown up, though Peter wasn’t sure he could handle it even if he had. 

His fingers slipped up shakily to the edge of his mask. He felt that he was choking under it. The desperation Peter felt to rip it off had grown immense, but he could at least push it up to his nose to get a breath of fresh air. 

The hangar beeped to alert that another person had entered, and Peter immediately tore his mask down again to cover his lips. Looking back, Peter was taken aback to find Sam standing in the doorway. He waved a friendly greeting, rubbing his arm somewhat awkwardly. “Mind if I sit with you?” 

“No, man, that’s fine.” Peter drew his leg up off the side of the building to hug a knee to himself for leverage to lay against. If Peter had ever found a friend in an Avenger, it was with Wanda and Sam. They were the ones that never bothered to parent him, and he’d been the most comfortable with. Watching him slip down beside him felt vaguely similar to old times, and Peter felt a little bit more relaxed. 

“Sorry. It’s depressing in there. Super uncomfortable?” Sam sighed, and Peter watched his hands slip up to remove his glasses. He could recall several times when he was younger and he’d been allowed to wear them, lugging Captain America’s shield that was twice his size and Thor’s helmet, in which he’d become the ultimate crime-fighting 8 year old. The memories made his lips twitch, though he looked down to cover it, in case the edges of his smile could be seen. 

“No, no… they’re fine. I mean, Steve and Tony,” Not referring to them as ‘Dad’ and ‘Pop’ made him feel like an awkward adolescent again, just before he’d finally asked for permission to do so. They had been overjoyed. “They lost their son. It’s normal for things to get quiet.” 

Sam shook his head, and rubbed his fingertips tiredly over his eyes. Peter felt he had missed a huge part of the conversation, even if he’d been listening the entire time. “Not just quiet. Freaky silent.” 

Peter wasn’t sure how to respond. Sam seemed fine with continuing on. 

“You knew Peter, right?” Sam asked, his eyes seeming to be focused on something in the air that wasn’t visible to Peter. 

He awkwardly nodded. “We met a few times.” 

“He was a good kid. Raised by the biggest jackass I know, and the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. Yet, he ended up being his own person. Wasn’t a huge talker, but he is.. Was… he was smart. And witty. Always kept the house busy, even between Avenger’s work, with school and science and stuff. And he makes us all happy.” Sam didn’t bother to correct the tense of his words, so Peter didn’t mention it. “I keep expecting him to walk out of his room and tell us he’d just been playing games all this time. He was just so young. Now it’s all us old guys and Wanda. And I never realized how much energy he brought in until now.” 

Peter heard an edge to Sam’s voice that sounded vaguely similar to it breaking, and he quickly filled the tenseness as to save him. “I lost a really good friend of mine about a few years ago.” He said softly. His legs slipped back down to dangle towards the Manhattan streets again, his fingers gripping tightly on the ledge. “It was the same. There were thousands of other kids still in school, but I felt like the halls were more empty without her.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Huh?” Peter looked up at Sam, taken aback by his question. 

“You said school. Highschool, right?” 

Peter hesitated, and nodded briefly. He had to be careful with his answers. “Yeah. I’m 22.” He lied. 

Sam’s expression softened to a sad smile, and his face dropped away from Spider-Man again. “You’re not too young to be crime-fighting? Your parents know?” 

“No, they uh… I don’t live with them.” 

“Ah.” Sam breathed out a thick sigh. “I’ve never seen Captain America cry before, you know?” 

Cry? Oh god. He could sense a ‘but.’ 

“How have him and Tony been doing?” Peter breathed softly, his grip tightening on the metal. 

“Terrible.” Please, Sam, stop there. “They lost their son. I don’t blame them. That’s not something you can come back from right away, if at all.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I’m totally unloading this on you, aren’t I? You’ve been here a year, so you have a right to know… but I know you also haven’t been here as often as we are so it might be weird for you.” 

“It’s fine.” Peter’s voice was quiet. “I don’t mind. It’s not like I’ve been here to see it.” 

“Well, like I was saying, they’re not… Not the same people, really. At first they just kinda disappeared, which was fine, because I think we were all in shock. Natasha, too. She took it really hard. I’ve only seen her once or twice. I don’t think she’s wanted to come to the tower too often. I saw Tony and Steve sometimes on the couch and stuff in the Avenger’s room, but I think Tony was mostly dealing with the aftermath, and Steve was too depressed to move. They haven’t really talked since. Tony hasn’t been sober since we got the police at our door, either.” 

Tony had been good about not drinking. A few weeks ago, Steve had burst into Peter’s room to proudly proclaim Tony had been alcohol-free for 3 years that day. It was an addiction he’d always been harping Tony to take care of. He used to tease Tony that he was already older than him, and he didn’t need anything taking him away any sooner.

“He was a really great kid.” Sam stood next to Peter, and Peter continued to look out at the darkening sky, hoping he’d be able to somehow see the same images Sam had been watching. “I’m glad you met him… before. He didn’t have many friends, honestly. They were missing out.” Of course they all knew that. At least being a misfit loner was his legacy. 

His hand rubbed the crushing weight that was on his shoulders and the back of his neck, though he couldn’t seem to shake it. It was painful to listen to this. 

“Also… it.. It’d mean a lot, if you could come to his funeral.” 

Funeral. Peter Parker’s funeral. For dead people. He was dead. 

Peter looked up at him with wide eyes, his mouth dry. “I-I don’t know.” He stammered. 

“Tony would really appreciate it, if you’d at least consider. It’d be nice to have another person who cared about him there. It’s at 10 on Sunday, in Calvary Cemetery. By the river.” 

“Okay.” Peter breathed questioningly, despite his mind screaming at him that was a terrible idea. Worst case scenario, he just didn’t show up. No one else knew of his invitation. “Okay.” He said more confidently, nodding. “I’ll really try to go.” 

Sam offered him a dulled smile, and Peter quietly slipped to his feet beside him. “We should uh, head back inside. In case they need us.” 

As they walked towards the doors, he spared another glance back at the spot that had served as a privacy area for him many times growing up. Leaving that behind felt the most real. 

\--

“Hey, Dad and Pop.” 

Peter’s shaking hands held the device loosely, as it came close to falling for the 3rd time in a row. His trembling breaths made it hard to speak properly, and he felt he was constantly choking on his words. 

“I’m sorry that I’m out so late.” He paused awkwardly, gathering the racing thoughts in his mind. He had a million things he wanted to say, yet none of them felt completely right. 

“I got distracted by homework. I’m on my way home now, I just d-didn’t want you to be… to be…” 

Peter paused the recording on his smartphone as it fell to the cushions, his fingers slipping to cover his mouth. He sat back again on the edge of the couch, staring wide-eyed at the 6 recordings that had ended abruptly in similar matters. The more times he attempted to record the voicemail, the worse it got, and the more uncomfortable he felt. He wanted to record a million ‘I love you’s’ and ‘I’m sorry for not being an amazing son’s and ‘Thank you for everything you did for me’s. But the fact was he couldn’t say any of that, unless it made it obvious it was a goodbye message, and that would likely just make everything worse if they thought Peter had known he was going to die. 

Goodbye. That was binding. It had started to finally settle in that this would be the last time he’d be able to talk to them as their son, which had led to many painful stops in the voicemail. Bruce had thought of it. He said he’d walked in on Wanda replaying a video the two had recorded together on loop, and thought it might be nice to give Steve and Tony the same. Bruce would plant the recording in Steve’s saved voicemails folder and make it appear as if it was a month or so old. Knowing that had made it impossible to record something that didn’t sound so…  
Final. 

Peter glanced at the screen of his TV where he had his video game paused, using it as a way to feel more normal amongst his day-to-day depressive cycles. He’d been working on this level of Mario Party 2 since the night before. The game made him laugh, when he thought of the times he and Tony had played against each other when he was a kid, and Steve had watched in awe at the graphics on the screen. Peter and Tony had always been pretty equally matched, and Steve helped to keep score of the wins. More often than not, it turned into a giggling fight between them, until someone got called away or Peter had homework to finish. But it had been one of their favorites. 

He didn’t realize his eyes stung until the thought had left him, and he’d come back from his nostalgia. The lonely teenager’s hands slowly slipped up to his lips that had been formed in a forlorn smile. He forced a brave breath into his lungs, and pulled his phone back up from the cushions to record his audio. 

“Hey, Dad and Pop. I’m sorry for calling so late. I kinda got held up.” Peter paused, his eyes glancing up at the flickering screen again. “I didn’t want you guys to worry. You always worry. Anyways, I’ll try to be home soon. Sleep well, okay? Try not to stay up waiting.” He sucked in a sharp breath, closing his eyes tightly. “...I love you both. See you soon.” 

The phone beeped as his finger hesitantly ended the recording. Peter didn’t open his eyes until he finally convinced himself to get up and shut off the N64, basking him in dark, mournful silence.

\-- 

 

**To: Spider-Man  
Sam informed this he invited you to the service this afternoon. Are you going to attend?**

Peter wiped groggily at his eyes, reading the text to himself a few times. He scanned the clock in the corner, displaying 6:38 AM. Bruce had always been a morning person.  
He swallowed hard as he rolled over on his back, fingers clicking tiredly to type back a reply. 

**To: Bruce  
No. I don’t think it would be smart. Too much of a risk. **

He paused as he bit his lip, waiting somewhat anxiously for a reply. He had never intended for Spider-Man to actually go to the wake. When he’d accepted, he was emotional, and didn’t want Sam to think badly of him for denying it. Going to his own funeral just sounded morbid and… like he was invading everyone’s privacy. His ringtone beeped again, drawing his attention. 

**To: Spider-Man  
I know it may sound terrible, but you should come. It might be your last chance to be with everyone in a group setting, and it might also change your mind. **

He slowly sat up at his words, grimacing. Bruce knew he didn’t want to change his mind. He didn’t want to put all of them in danger. 

**To: Bruce  
I have nothing to wear, anyways. **

**To: Spider-Man  
I’ll bring you a suit. **

**To: Bruce  
What about my disguise? **

**To: Spider-Man  
Wear the mask. You won’t be out of place. **

Peter’s hands clutched around his phone, and dropped his hands to his chest. He didn’t want to have to make this decision. He would love to get to be with everyone again, another chance to see them, as that wasn’t something he’d likely be able to do in upcoming months. Spider-Man tended to only make appearances at the Avenger’s meeting room when it was dire, and he took care of most petty crime in New York, and even some of the higher threats. He couldn’t imagine he’d get to see them more than once every few months. Maybe it was better that way; he’d be able to move on sooner, and have less potential of Harry seeing their interactions. However, the morbid curiosity that everyone felt about their funeral was hard in his chest. Even if just to get in final goodbyes with everyone else and have closure.  
He glanced back at his phone, heaving out a rough sigh. 

**To: Bruce  
Alright. I’ll go. **

**To: Spider-Man  
Great. I’ll be by at 9. **

Peter felt that he would regret this, and he knew Bruce wanted him to go just to see that his family missed him. But really, he knew he wouldn’t be swayed by this. Not when they still all had their lives on the line. 

He scraped himself from the couch and moped towards the shower, shaking the fear from his head. This was just a funeral. In his Spideysuit. Nothing could go horribly wrong. 

\-- 

That statement was terribly, terribly incorrect. 

Peter had pulled the tuxedo on over his Spider-Man mask, leaving off his suit and gloves, which was really warm, but it was a freezing day, so it wasn’t a bad choice. He felt awkward, swinging through the skies as if he was going to a business meeting, but there didn’t seem to be many people out due to the rain, anyways. He landed carefully on the edge of the funeral on the side that bordered the river, and quietly slid his umbrella up to block out the rain, listening to the drops hit the top of it steadily. His eyes trailed up the grassy hill that was slippery from the weather, and braced it before taking a slow step upwards. 

It was surprisingly quite easy to find the gathering; the heroes stood out vastly among the dark skies. Peter felt his body freeze the closer he got, realizing how many people were actually there; Flash, Mary Jane, and a group of kids he’d known from high school were stoically off to the side. The Avenger’s team were scattered among the chairs, and Peter’s English Professor was sitting alone in the back row. Steve and Tony were standing side-by-side, though never touching or interacting… at all. Next to them was his cousin Ellie, His Aunt May, and his Aunt’s step sister Denise. Seeing them had made him stop in his tracks. He’d been quite close with his Aunt and Uncle since they’d reconnected years ago following his adoption, and he’d been there to comfort Aunt May through Uncle Ben’s death. He’d forgotten his biological family had actually… existed. He felt sick, putting Aunt May through losing her last blood relative. What had he done? 

Peter dropped his head and walked more purposefully towards the crowd, standing behind the filled chairs. Glancing next to him, he found Betty from the Daily Bugle, and the kid who wrote advice columns, Adam. Then there was the kid he’d tutored in Biology at university, Jacob. And on his right, Malia and Jose, who had worked at Stark Industries. Being here was like looking at a timeline progression of his life, highlighting the good, and the bad. He felt like a ghost.

A hand clasped his shoulder and made him visibly jump, though it disappeared as soon as it realized it had taken him off guard. Glancing behind him, he found Scott, the Ant-Man. His lips were too dry and stuck in place to speak. 

“It’ll mean a lot you came.” Scott said as he slipped underneath Peter’s umbrella, though he was glad to share. He held it between them as they both turned back to the silent podium, where the memorial speaker had begun to gather himself. 

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Peter replied back, almost in a whisper. Scott looked down at Peter, and he glanced back hesitantly. “You know, I… I mean…”

“Yeah.” Scott replied back simply, smiling softly as he stared at the podium. “I know. No need to explain it. He was a part of our team, super-suited or not.” 

The words sent a chill down Peter’s spine, though he didn’t have a reply for him. That fact alone made his heart swell. 

“If I could please have everyone stand.” Peter glanced up at the speaker, his body going numb as he listened to the words of the opening. “We would like to begin today’s service with a prayer.” 

Peter barely managed to keep his attention focused throughout it. Standing there with a hundred others, head bowed silently as the rain was the only noise to disrupt the proceedings, his mind was racing. He knew praying had to be his Aunt May’s request. She was the only religious one in the family. Steve had been caught praying once by Peter after a fight that had left several Avenger’s injured, though he saved it for special moments when faith was the only thing he had. 

The crowd sat down again as Peter slowly looked up once more. Aunt May stood at the podium, her fingers lightly gripping onto the bible that was resting there. She took in a shaky breath, her voice coming through the mic tenderly. 

“Peter was a hero. To all of us.” 

He instantly felt his stomach twist up painfully, and hearing her say his name so softly, she sounded like she thought it might be her only chance to. 

“Not just from giving up his life to try to save that poor man. He proved this in the small ways. He kept his head held high when my sister-in-law and her husband had passed away, and he’d been stuck in the foster care system for a few years. Every time we came to visit, he had a smile on his face. He never let his situations get him down. So optimistic.” She paused and took a brave breath, turning her eyes down to the book she kept in hard times. “His Uncle and I loved him oh so dearly. So many of you did, especially his fathers.” She glanced to look at them, smiling sadly. “He loved you both so much. But I’m sure, even more so, he gave you both a gift that could never be returned; hope. That was something Peter had showed us all. He taught us that, despite who you may have lost, and the hardships still to come, you could love, and be loved, and take each day with a smile despite the pain. I’m sure he would want all of you to keep an open mind in the future, and be careful to enjoy every moment you possibly can, even the sadness. Because that’s what shapes you, more than anything. Being able to smile through the tears… that’s the gift Peter has given me.” Her voice slowly fell from her lips, and, as if on cue, he could see moisture accumulating on her cheeks that wasn’t from the rain. “Pastor Dane will lead us in another prayer, and then we’ll open up to anyone that would like to say a few words.” 

Peter stared at his picture sitting at the front of the area, swallowing hard. Water dribbled down over his face, a school picture Steve had been in love with from senior year, as thunder clacked overhead. 

Ellie was next to speak, then Clint, then Thor. All spoke of his accomplishments. Of his dreams. Of memories they had with Peter, and funny stories, particularly from Thor. Crying had overtaken a few spots in the crowd, and he dared not to look. He felt guilty. He felt nauseous. There he was, alive, and lying to everyone he’d ever held close. No one spoke of the negative things he had done, or the times he’d hurt them. They made him sound like some… deity. When really, he’d done something horrible to them by choosing this path. He wanted to hold Aunt May and promise he had always loved her cooking despite Ben making fun of it. He wanted to laugh with Clint over their failed gaming levels, and tell Betty the lunches she’d made him because she knew he’d forget to eat had been amazing gifts. 

When Peter’s cousin began to sing was when he dipped out. He thrusted the umbrella into Scott’s hand, turning and walking away quickly back down the hill. He needed alone time. He didn’t want to be there to listen to the praise he didn’t deserve. 

He slipped down to the edge of the riverbank, pulling himself up to sit on the railing. His mask and body quickly began to get soaked, but he felt numb to the cold. Peter took several deep breaths to calm his racing heart, his hands clenching tightly to the bars. 

“No good?” 

Peter looked up with wide eyes at the figure he’d somehow missed, sitting atop one of the concrete walls above him. He felt his stomach drop at those vibrant eyes staring back at him from beneath a hood, his voice trembling. 

“H-Hey, Wade.” He said quietly. “I just… funerals aren’t my thing.” 

“Mine, either.” Wade murmured as he dropped down beside Peter in his street clothing that seemed so terribly out of place compared to the attire others wore. “I guess I should be there. But the crying, the stories… it’s too fake for me.” 

Peter felt a small smile tugging on his frown. He was glad that, despite the dreary mood, Wade was still himself, if a little less outgoing. 

Wade quietly leaned back on the rails beside Peter, and for a moment, things felt natural and normal. That was, until he noticed Wade staring up at the funeral party, and he followed his eyes to also glance at the sea of black surrounding his headstone. 

“This is so not him.” Wade spoke quietly, and Peter slowly tore his eyes away to look back at him. His hooded face was hard to see in the dimness of the overcast, but Peter could still make out a grimace. 

“Too…?” Peter prompted, wanting him to articulate. 

“Too formal. Too emotional. Peter wasn’t just a good student that did what Dad told him to. He was intelligent and dorky and…” Wade’s head drooped as he pulled the fabric of his hood to cover more of his face. “A smartass. A lovable smartass.” 

Peter’s breath hitched at his explanation, and he slowly nodded his agreement. “Funerals make people sound too perfect.” 

“Oh, he was.” The way his voice trembled made Peter shiver. “To me. He was perfect.”

They sat in the quiet silence for a bit longer, thunder again crackling overhead. 

“I’m sorry.” Peter suddenly confessed as he looked up at Wade. He could see his shoulders shaking, though he wasn't sure if it was from the cold or if he was actually… crying. Seeing the defeated look on Wade caused Peter’s own body to hitch, and he looked away, unable to handle the sight. “He was your… you guys were together.” Really, he was apologizing for what he’d done to him. To all of them. He had never truly considered his life valuable. Now he felt he’d committed a terrible crime against them all. 

“For 2 years.” Wade answered in an unsteady tone, and Peter’s heart practically shattered on the spot. “It was our anniversary three days ago.” 

Right. Peter hadn’t forgotten. 

“Peter loved you.” Saying his own name sounded strange on his lips, but he felt this was something Wade really needed right then. His heart was racing in his chest, and the rain seemed so much quieter then. The only thing Peter could focus on was Wade and how blurry his vision had started to get. “He talked about you almost every time I saw him.” 

Wade’s body slowly sunk to the wet ground, and the sound of small sobs pierced Peter’s ears. He hated it. He wanted to comfort him. To tell him he was alright. To kiss him. To hug him. This was the man he loved more than anything, a crying on the sidewalk, and Peter couldn’t do anything to alleviate his pain. It was horrible.

“He was the only person to ever believe I wasn’t some monster. Even more than me.” Wade’s voice sounded broken. Peter couldn’t believe he’d done this to him. Wade’s fingers dug tiredly into his pocket, and he pulled out a small box. A small sound of surprised escaped Peter when he saw it, his eyes widening. His fingers tightened on the rails to the point it felt they were indented beneath his hands. No way. He wasn’t going to…! 

The box clicked open to reveal a silver band with a diamond pattern drawn across the front. Peter stared at it silently, swallowing hard. 

Just as quick as it had appeared, the box clicked shut and was buried back in his pocket, and Peter simply stared where it had been. “I was gonna ask him to marry me on our anniversary night.” Wade laughed dryly through the tears, a hand running beneath his hood over his eyes. “Totally fucking cheesy, right? My specialty!” 

“Peter would have said yes.”He cut in without missing a beat. Wade seemed to tense, and Peter relinquished a shuddering sigh he’d been holding back. “L-Like I said, he… he really seemed to care about you.” 

Wade breathed a quivering sigh. “I-I don’t know if that makes it better or harder.” Peter took the chance to quietly slide down the railing to sit beside him. He placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly as any friend would. 

“Why’d he have to do something so stupid?” Wade’s hands that were previously rubbing his face had clenched to fists, and another sob wracked his body. “Fuck Spidey, I-I’m sorry to unload. I-I just.. Oh god, Peter.”

Peter paused, before wrapping a careful arm around Wade to keep him secured to his side. The man seemed taken aback, but eased into it, needing the comfort, which was something he probably hadn’t gotten elsewhere. They sat quietly that way as Wade did his best to hide the quivering, gasping tears, until the people at the funeral had cleared. Peter watched as Steve and Tony were left to gaze at the picture of Peter sitting atop the hill for quite a while, until Clint eventually came to collect it and urge them to walk back towards the car. Steve wiped at his eyes as Tony walked somberly behind the two. Seeing that was enough for Peter’s entire resolve to come crashing down. 

Peter didn’t know when he started crying, but once he had, he couldn’t stop. He covered his masked lips with a hand, the tears finally deciding to come. Twelve days of bottling up all of his horrible emotions had finally come out, and his voice sounded horribly distorted and broken behind his voice changer. He’d lost everyone. He’d lied to everyone. He’d hurt everyone. He’d missed out on his own engagement. Everything he’d worked for and cared for up until that moment didn’t belong to him any longer. He wasn’t Peter Parker. He was Spider-Man, and that meant he was alone. 

Harry won. Everyone was still breathing, but Peter wasn’t living. He was surviving. 

It was dark when the two had awkwardly parted ways, and Peter was glad Wade hadn’t mentioned the sudden breakdown. His mind felt somewhat clearer, swinging back towards his apartment, having finally gotten out the tears, though he simply felt more… Well… 

More trapped. 

Wade was right. Why had Peter done something so stupid? 

\-- 

He was reminded of why he’d made his decision a week later, when he woke up to a letter at his doorstep. It was written and addressed to Peter Parker, the return address being from Oscorp. Peter’s eyes widened as he ripped open the envelope, and a horrified scream nearly tore apart his body. 

A newspaper clipping. Betty had been jumped in New York and stabbed by a mugger that hadn’t been caught. She was in critical condition until she had finally passed away a day later. A note was attached to the back with scratched letters written across torn paper. 

“I told you not to try to get close to them. That was the terms of our deal. This is a reminder for you, little Spider. Humans break so easily when you hit them hard enough.” 

The paper fluttered to the ground, and Peter’s body soon followed as he collapsed. Betty. No way. Betty was gone. And it was all his fault. 

That was why Peter hadn’t told anyone of his identity. These were the times he regretted ever looking into his birth father’s past to try to learn more about him, and getting bit by that godforsaken Spider. Another innocent girl had died because of him. 

There was no way in hell he’d let this happen again. 

But for now, all he could do  
was lie there and stare at Betty’s printed picture, the guilt eating away his ability to feel much else.


	2. Home Can be a Dangerous Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short Snow Sadness

Peter had lived a really fantastic life growing up with Tony and Steve. As expected, being the son of a billionaire superhero and his all-American sweetheart husband had given him the benefits of a financially stable future, while also living with adoring parents. They may have been overbearing and overprotective, but they’d always had the best intentions in mind. 

Tony wasn’t home often, mostly due to work. There were quite a few times Steve was absent as well when the Avengers called for it, so he was alone quite a bit. However, Peter had still been blessed with a large assortment of others to keep him company in the times they weren’t available; Pepper had always been there to cook dinner for him, Clint and Natasha switched off babysitting, Thor was his entertainment and often escorted him to bed to tell him a creative bedtime story, and Bruce helped with his homework and kept him on top of chores. Altogether, it was an experience he wouldn’t have gotten anywhere else, and even more so, a family to always fall back on. 

That was something he had missed out on during years of foster care. 

His parents had died when he was nearly 5. Peter didn’t remember too terribly much about them, but he had respected them, despite their privacy and emotional distance. When they had suddenly passed, he’d been thrown from home to home in an attempt to figure out the legal issues. His Aunt and Uncle had been after him from the beginning, though due to rough money situations and Ben’s health issues, they’d never been able to secure the adoption. He still saw them as often as he was allowed to, though he spent quite a bit of time buried in foster homes for young boys, a lost name that likely would never see the light. 

However, Tony and Steve gave him that glittering hope he’d always dreamed of. 

It was a one-in-a-million-chance meeting; Tony had heard of Richard and Mary’s demise years ago, through other significant members of the science committee, and many knew of his son that had virtually disappeared. Peter’s science fair project had been entered into the state competition, which Tony was an invited judge at. Walking through the rows of young children with planets and molding food, he had been caught off guard to see the name _Parker_ printed neatly on his nameplate. While a common surname, the boy looked so painstakingly similar to the man he’d met several times, it threw him greatly off guard. 

Really, he hadn’t intended to spend more time than necessary confirming it was him. Yet, those huge brown eyes had somehow enticed him into conversation, and he spent a good majority of his time asking questions about Peter’s miniature engineering project, and an hour afterwards discussing his aspirations. Peter Parker had done the impossible; made Tony Stark actually like a child. 

And when Steve had brought up his wishes of adopting a child with Tony less than a week later by coincidence, Tony had jumped at the chance to thrust Peter directly into conversation. 

The couple had easily fallen in love with the shy, socially-challenged child that had clearly been affected by his years of abandonment, yet still tried to open up to them. It was difficult for Tony and Steve to help him manage the depression, while also trying to figure out how to actually raise a child, and even harder for Peter to let his guard down enough to feel that he might actually be somewhere permanently. Yet, together they had figured it out, and Peter absolutely adored both of them within the year. 

It wasn’t that they weren’t close enough for Peter to tell them that he wanted to know more about his father. He just felt it was something he wanted to look into on his own, and began the search for his father’s scientific work that ultimately led him to Oscorp. For him, it was a private mission in learning why his parents had left him, and why it had likely cost them their lives. So when he’d been bitten by a radioactive spider at 16 and suddenly discovered he had powers… he was a little shocked, and definitely didn’t go running to his dads for help, knowing he’d likely become Tony’s next science experiment. Peter just wanted to continue living as himself. 

His Uncle’s death had been the most influential impact on his life, and why he’d chosen to become Spider-Man. He realized, through this, how plagued New York was with criminals that never had to answer to those they had hurt. So through the pain he’d taken on the mask, knowing the Avenger’s couldn’t focus their time on local issues. Someone had to do what the police couldn’t. Peter had to. He now had the powers… so he had the responsibility.

By the time Spider-Man had actually been developed into a full-blown persona, and Peter had showed up at home with bruises and sent to therapy to figure out why he was suddenly getting involved in so many fights, the Avenger’s had picked up on Spider-Man’s trail. Peter could still remember the day he’d come home to hear Fury badmouthing the vigilante to his fathers, who had both agreed they didn’t appreciate his sense of justice. Peter had decided then he would keep his secret exclusively between him and his new girlfriend Gwen, lest his parents find out and take away the one thing that Peter felt he was helping people doing. Even if he didn’t have his family’s support, he knew he was doing the right thing. 

Gwen. She was beautiful, witty, and the first to know Peter’s secret. She was his junior year love, and she’d been gone in an instant. It left its toll on Peter’s mental stability. That summer, his suit remained stuffed in the back of his closet. He’d vowed to himself to always keep his identity a secret from others and keep them out of that part of his life, especially Tony and Steve. He wouldn’t let his own ignorance and selfishness hurt anyone else.

Then there was Wade Wilson. While Spider-Man and Deadpool had been friends for many years, Wade and Peter had hit it off rather quickly after Wade had been asked to join the Avengers Peter’s senior year. Wade had been one of Peter’s biggest supporters through Gwen’s death, one of his best friends thereafter, and soon the one he’d fallen in love with. It was a long road getting Peter’s family to accept Wade as more than a lewd psychotic ex-serial killer, though they had eventually all grown rather protective over his and Peter’s relationship. And while Peter felt absolutely horrible keeping the fact they’d known each other much longer than Wade thought a secret, his fear of Wade facing the same fate as Gwen overpowered it. Despite being a superhuman, Wade was still capable of pain, and Peter never wanted him to experience it due to him. 

What a great job he’d done at that. 

\--

2 months. It had been 2 months since the day Peter had walked into the explosive building that had ended his life. 

Peter, luckily, had Spider-Man to put his focus into, instead of wallowing in self-pity day in and out. He’d purposefully avoided all contact with his previous family and Wade since the day he’d found out about Betty 7 weeks ago, which wasn’t exactly hard considering the rarity they had full team meetings. With the change of weather and the constant freezing temperatures, night crime had fortunately died down in the city, which left many nights uneventful. At times, Peter would perch across from Stark Industries to stare in the tinted windows of Steve and Tony’s flat, hoping to get a glimpse of them inside, though it was often empty. He’d stopped asking for updates on their life from Bruce, so he truly had no idea what was happening with them. For all he knew, they could have completely moved on from losing Peter and had begun to recuperate. The thought made his heart heavy with fear they’d forget or replace him. They were his Dads, dead or alive. And Peter would never be able to let that go. 

Otherwise, life had been calm for Peter. He was able to be more active during the day, working out or writing to pass the time. Some days were better than others; he still had extended groupings of days where he truly didn’t have the energy to get out of bed, and made himself sick from lying around and not eating. However, he still did have his productive days at least once a week, which usually involved him throwing on a hat and sunglasses to go buy groceries from the Mexican mini-mart down the street, or spend more time than normal on patrol. 

Man, Peter really missed school and working for the Bugle. Despite the stress, it had given him an outlet beyond just crime-fighting to put effort into. Now, he just felt he had nothing really motivating him. He’d never have a normal life. What else was there? 

The sun was what finally woke Peter up from his restless slumber one Sunday morning, slumped over on his couch as always. He wasn't sure he'd actually slept on his bed yet. He shielded his eyes against the rays shining rather brightly through his window that day, annoyed to be woken up what he deemed rather early. He tried to adjust so that they weren't hitting his face, though they seemed to be at that perfectly irritating angle that meant he wouldn't be back to sleep any time soon. Which meant he had to get up and move to his bed, or actually close his blinds. 

The groggy young man pulled himself tiredly to his feet as he slumped over to the window, grabbing ahold of the blinds pulley. However, the source of the brightness caught him completely off guard, his eyes widening. 

Snow. It was snowing. 

The sight made Peter's heart race in excitement, seeing the outside streets blanketed in white. It was mid-afternoon, so seeing people basking in the cold, or trudging bitterly to work already wasn’t a surprise. He stared out fondly for a bit, feeling the clipping of cold on his nose, face pressed against the window. He had many sweet memories with Steve and Tony in the snow. One year Steve had begged Tony to take he and Peter out to go sledding. Another year, they’d gone ice skating. Last year, Peter had barely caught Tony from slipping and falling when he had tried to throw a snowball. Either way, they had always ended up in their favorite snowy day spot: the park across from Peter’s old high school with a large pond in the center and no trees to block the snowfall. 

He wanted to go there again. Desperately. 

So much so that, within a few minutes, Peter was pulling on his winter clothing, tying a scarf around the lower half of his face to block it, a beanie pulled down close to his eyes, sunglasses, and his Spider-Man mask was shoved away in his pocket, just in case. 

Stepping out without his constricting spandex suit felt really good. The cold was notably less biting, actually covered up, and the air cut around his eyes where the glasses didn’t quite cover. But it was a sweet, freezing pain that reminded Peter of his days beyond the life he was living now. The walk to the park was long and quiet, having to travel across Manhattan just to reach it. But seeing the untouched snow lying across the grass and the frozen water, a wall of white flecks still steadily falling and filling the piles... It was so worth it. 

Peter slowly slipped down to sit on the damp bench, drawing his knees up to him to hug for warmth. He quietly pulled off his sunglasses to stare across the empty space, minus a few people skirting the park, or high-school kids in the corner having a snow wrestling tournament. Each patchy area of grass reminded him of another memory, and each pulled at his heart in a different way. What he’d give to be there with Steve and Tony again. 

His wishes came true about 10 minutes later. 

Peter had noticed them before they even had the chance to see him. The tall blonde and shorter brunette were easy to spot among the colorless backdrop, both in black suits that made them look too important to be in a measly park. He had ducked behind one of the trees, cramming his mask on over his face messily, before easily, but sloppily, replacing the hat, and scarf. Hopefully, they wouldn’t look his way and realize it was Spider-Man when they passed from his side. But if they had, at least he was disguised. 

God wasn’t really working in his favor. As predicted, even with his head down, he still heard crunching footsteps come to a stop in front of him. Slowly glancing up, he found the two heroes staring down at him in blank confusion. 

“Hey.” Peter acknowledged weakly, trying to lower his voice even more than the disguiser could, his heart beating loudly in his chest. Had they recognize him? His clothes. God he was so stupid! Of course they could recognize his clothing! 

“I’m surprised you’re out.” Steve said with a soft expression, a gentle smile on his face. “I don’t think we’ve ever run across you in public.” 

“I… had shopping to do. Just stopped to sit down.” Peter answered hesitantly. Tony and Steve both looked at the lack of plastic bags, and Peter’s voice wavered. “Haven’t gone yet.” 

They stood there quietly for a moment, and Peter stared up at them through wide eyes. His parents. He hadn’t felt them this close to him in so long. The thought made his entire body go rigid. Seeing them again hurt. More than anything else about this. Being this close and unable to do anything about it… it was destroying him. There was the familiar twitching again in his hand; the temptation to reach out and hug them and promise them he was doing alright. 

If only.

“Darcy and Jane are baking back at the tower.” Steve glanced at the silent Tony, who had turned his eyes away from Peter. “If you wanted to join us. You’re free to come by at any time. You are an Avenger.” 

Peter paused, then slowly shook his head. “I really need to get back. T-thanks, though.” He managed to get out. He and Darcy had loved to bake together. God, he missed Darcy. 

He didn’t stay long enough to see their reactions, or even say goodbye. He crawled off the bench, shooting out a web and pulling himself away from them, twisting and shooting another to drop behind a nearby building. His hands clutched painfully at his chest as gasping, sharp breaths left his body, feeling unable to fill his lungs. Eventually he had slid to the ground, burying his head in his arms as he struggled to keep a panic attack at bay. Despite how well he’d been doing over the past month and a half to move on, he felt like a scared child again. He just wanted their comfort. Their guidance. To rub his back and tell him everything would be fine. But he was on his own. 

Still, something about the encounter felt haunting. Why had they decided to randomly show up at the park? He didn’t think it was just because they had shared the same nostalgia. Actually, he had a sinking suspicion on why they’d chosen that day. Peter slowly slipped his phone out of his pocket as he checked the date. As feared, it read December 13th. 

“Happy Birthday, Peter...” He whispered to himself, tilting his head back against the wall behind him as snow fell over his mask. “What a great way to spend it.” 

\--

When Peter arrived at Stark Industries for the Avengers meeting post-Christmas, he was rather taken off guard to be met with yelling. The elevator opened up directly into the end of the hallway that also connected to the Stark-Rogers condo. Sound apparently carried very easily from their doorway. His super hearing left him frozen from the intensity of the conversation, and he immediately was able to make out both Steve and Tony’s voices. 

“I can’t believe you’re hungover again.” Steve said darkly. Peter slid himself discreetly against the wall. While not visible, he didn’t want anyone glancing out of the meeting room and seeing him eavesdropping. “You promised you’d stop!” 

“I promise a lot of things. Give it back.” Tony barked. 

“Peter hated this.” 

“Don’t go there.” 

“He wanted you to stop. He was _proud_ of you when you stopped.” 

“Don’t bring him into this!” Tony said angrily, and a glass shattered somewhere among their conversation. Peter cupped his mouth, keeping a surprise shout away. He hated hearing them mention him. “He’s gone! He’s exactly why I need it. But you don’t fucking help!” He groaned angrily. “Fine! Keep it! It’s not like I can’t afford a full bar anyways!” 

“Tony, stop.” Steve’s voice broke among his desperate yelling, and Peter’s eyes widened, his breath catching. “Please. I’m sorry. I hate seeing this control you. I… I don’t want to lose you, too. You were doing so well. You had tried so hard to stop. It’s destructive.” 

They were silent for a bit, and then Peter realized he heard sniffling cries first from Steve, and Tony followed. He swallowed hard, trembling lightly. 

 

“I can’t clear out his room.” Tony said quietly. 

“I know. I can’t either.” 

“Natasha thinks it would help.” 

“It won’t.” A pause. “I don’t want to fight, Tony.” 

“Can I have it back?” 

“Tony…” 

“I need it. For now. Just for now. Just to get through another day.” 

Ice tinkled against glass, and Peter felt inward disappointment Steve relinquished it to him. 

With that, he quietly ducked into the meeting room, grimacing. Steve and Tony were up in arms constantly, even when Peter had been alive. He hoped that this was one of the rare times they'd gotten in a spat, and it wasn't something that had become commonplace for them. Peter would be crushed to be the cause of their fighting.

The meeting went by normally. Fury talked briefly of another red vigilante in the city they were hoping to take under SHIELD’s control, but otherwise it concluded rather quickly. Peter was glad; he'd managed to avoid speaking thus far, but he didn't want to put himself any more at risk. 

Peter took his leave shortly after the meeting, though he paused briefly when he was about to press the elevator button. A body collapsed pitifully on the sofa caught his eye, though what he was listening to was what had really made him freeze. 

_“Sleep well, okay?”_

That was Peter’s voice. The voicemail Bruce had asked him to record. And seeing the blankets shift, blonde hair poked out that indicted it was, indeed, Steve. Who had apparently known he'd been caught as he sat up, offering a sad smile to the Spider. 

“Spider-Man.” Steve commented as he tried to sound more upbeat, setting his phone aside. He looked disappointed that it had been cut off. “You were heading out?” 

“U-Uh, yeah. Sorry. I didn't mean to… interrupt.” Peter gestured vaguely. He could see the effort Steve was putting in to smile, the look threatening to drop any second within its struggled tremble. 

Steve relinquished a small sigh as the friendly expression fell, glancing back down at the mobile device he was actually terrible at operating. Likely why Bruce could easily slip the voicemail into his archive unnoticed. “It was just an old recording.” He said softly. There was a long, awkward pause. As Peter turned to say his goodbye, he was caught by Steve's sudden words. 

“I'm sorry if everyone seems sort of off around you.” Steve frowned, his arms slowly folding over his chest. “You're young and… you really do remind us a lot of him.” He paused, laughing painfully at himself. “That must sound really creepy. ‘You remind us of our dead son.’” The word ‘dead’ visibly jarred them both, but neither audibly acknowledged it. “It's been hard on all of us. He was close to everyone here, and I'm guessing you both are similar in age. So having you here, I think, has just made people think of him more.” 

Peter didn't know what to say. Any normal person would likely just smile through it and apologize. What was he supposed to do? 

Actually, he knew. He couldn't be around them anymore. Not only was it hurtful to them and him, but they had already begun to search for the likeness between them. It was better if he just cut this off now. He needed to quite the Avengers.

“It's fine.” Spider-Man smiled, though his sweetness was forced. Inside, the thought of never allowing himself to see them again was killing him. At least like this, even if it wasn't the same, he still got the small doses of them. “I'm sorry you guys are going through a tough time.” 

Peters stomach dropped as he swung away from the tower, throwing one last look at the place he'd grown up. The place he'd found a home. The place he'd fallen in love. 

He wasn't going to hold onto that Peter side of him any longer. 

And that day, Peter Parker had truly died and moved on.


	3. Who Lives, Who Dies, Who tells your Story?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end bum bum bum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this story done since before I actually posted the first chapter, so it may not contain everything reviewers wanted! I'm sorry, but I hope you still enjoy it. 
> 
> Also a note, if this does get enough comments and reviews, I'll write a bonus chapter that follows what happens at the end. Working on other stories right now, so I just want to see if it's something people would be interested in before I pause those to work on that. :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> \--

_“I love you.”_

_“...Are you sure?”_

_Peter looked surprised at Wade’s response, a little mortified, but understanding eventually passed over his face. Wade’s fingers dug slightly harder than he intended into Peter’s hair, his head propped lazily on his lap. The Star Wars movie that had been playing on the screen suddenly felt a lot less interesting, and only served as background noise, drowned out by Wade’s heart beating loudly in his ears._

_Peter’s body twisted until he was staring directly up at Wade with a smile planted across his lips, his eyes crinkling at the corner in the cute way they always had. A soft hand found its way across a textured cheek, and in the next moment, Wade found his lips overtaken._

_“Yeah.” Peter spoke quietly as they drew away an inch, his breath hot against Wade’s nose. “A hundred percent sure.”_

_Wade’s grin spread heat over his cheeks, then down through his chest and stomach. The vulnerability in Peter’s voice was way too fucking cute, and everything was just so fucking perfect. “I love you.” Another kiss forced a pause in his words, and he slipped a hand tenderly to the back of Peter’s head to anchor their lips together. He could do this all day, if only he was allowed to. “I love you.” He repeated, the words sounding so fresh and exciting, though he’d been thinking them through almost every conversation he’d had with Peter for the past 4 months. “God, I love you.”_

Everything had been perfect. Every plan had been made. Every argument was resolved. Every goodnight made sleeping so much easier. The ring had been bought. The anniversary dinner was planned. Wade had even gotten permission from Tony and Steve to propose, and after a month of begging, they’d agreed. He’d been so ready to spend the rest of his life, however long, with Peter and share a crazy, weird future that matched up well with their personalities. 

Whose cruel fucking idea was it to ruin the one thing in Wade’s life worth living for?  
Wade had been blissfully unaware of Peter’s death for two days after it had happened. Of course he’d been concerned when Peter didn’t text him back at all the first day, but he did have school, and Wade knew he was notorious for pulling all nighters to finish homework and sleeping the afternoon away. The second day he’d been more concerned, particularly when he showed up to bring his boyfriend lunch at school and he hadn’t been spotted anywhere that day. After another few hours of impatient begging for an answer, he headed towards the tower to see him in person. 

**To: Peter**  
**hey baby boy you okay? sick? pissed off? trying to hack a super government computer? just wanna make sure you’re good. Love you.**

 

Another few minutes of walking with no reply, Wade had sped up to a slow jog towards the tower. The closer he got, the more the nerves grew. He almost didn’t want to make it there, scared that he’d find Peter broken from a car accident, or actively ignoring him. Either way, he just had to make sure Peter wasn’t close to harm. 

Clint had been the one to answer his antsy knocking. The hope in Wade’s chest was clawed painfully out when he saw the stricken look on the Avengers face, and his world came crashing down around him. 

“I’m sorry, Wade. I know we haven’t exactly been friends but… you can stay here with us. We all know what you’re going through.” 

They didn’t. There was no possible way to know what he was going through. Peter had been their nephew, their son, and their friend but for Wade.. he’d been the reason for Wade to wake up in the morning. He didn’t want there to be another day if it meant he’d spend it without him. 

So he’d died. 

Several times. The first night without Peter he’d shot himself in his bed, praying to the Satan in the sky that he’d spare him, just this once, and let him go peacefully. The second night he’d gotten in a knife fight, but had forgotten his at home. The third night he’d tied himself to the underside of the bridge until he’d gotten bored of drowning. The fourth night he’d simply drunk himself to sleep and stayed in a haze for a week thereafter. It wasn’t until the day of the mall shooting he’d actually sobered up enough to decide he needed to find more creative ways to take off the edge. 

Each bad guy he took down was another way he felt closer to Peter. The do-good millennial had been the one to convince him to find alternative ways to dealing with criminals. Wade felt it was the one way he could still make him happy and proud, which was a sight he’d lived for, while also acting self-destructively on the off-chance he’d manage to not revive. 

The dreams had to be the worst part. Wade had always had night-terrors, specifically due to the trauma of Weapon X. However, these dreams felt so much worse. The memories of Peter haunted him nightly, some dreams being happy sweet times, and others being the fights Wade could never make up to him. He’d formed a habit, among the dark hours he spent alone in the bed, of twisting his ring on his finger that was missing its twin, until the thoughts subsided. It was something he had seen Peter do each time he grew nervous or stressed out, and when questioned, Peter just said the thoughts of Wade helped calm him down. And if that wasn’t the sweetest and most heartbreaking of all memories, he didn’t really know what else to say. 

\--

6 months. 6 months had passed since Peter had died. 4 months ago Spider-Man had virtually dropped from the Avengers, and stopped answering Bruce’s texts, until he stopped sending them. Peter had gotten rid of all pictures and evidence of his past life he’d kept with him- minus his promise ring- and moved on from the life he used to have.

Not completely. He still couldn't find meaning or motivation in his current state of existence, despite trying to force it on himself as Spider-Man. Saving people was easy. Letting it be his only drive in life had been hard. Even in the days that he was called for official Avengers work, he never showed his face. He knew the only way to cut away that side of his life was to completely push it away, which included cutting out association with SHIELD. Fury had also stopped contacting him when they realized he wasn't going to respond, which had left Peter in silence, ignorant to how the Avengers were doing. Which was...good. He hoped. 

Peter was insanely surprised to find a page on his Avengers device when he'd woken up late one dreary Saturday afternoon. Not that he didn't occasionally get them in emergencies, which it easily might have been, but he definitely never got them from Tony Stark. The sender appearing on his pager sent shivers down his spine. He hadn’t had contact with anyone since the day he’d decided to quit.

 **Please stop by the tower when you get the chance.**

The phrase was somewhat haunting, though Peter wasn't entirely sure what it could be entailing. Had he forgotten something while there? Information? Did this have to do with his dead other half? Each possibility made his heart race as he debated whether to obey his wishes. 

In the end curiosity and a need to hear Tony's voice again won him over, and he pulled his suit on and set off swinging towards the building. Just this one chance to see them couldn’t hurt anything.

\--  
**To: Spider-Man**  
**Dont come to the tower.**

Peter stared at the text from Bruce that burned brightly on his screen, having not received any contact from him in months. His heart froze the instant he’d read it. His eyes darted nervously across each letter, expecting them to change. His stomach felt like it was filled with lead. The dim light made the elevator he was riding in suddenly seem much smaller, the walls starting to close in on him as panic set in. Each beep of the passing floors was another level of his anxiety spiking. Eyes widening, he looked up at the number 22 glaring back at him. 

**22...23...24...25**

**To: Bruce  
What does that mean? **

Peter didn’t care why he was telling him to stay away, but the fact he was was enough to make Peter press the buttons for the bottom floors, waiting for the elevator to head back down. None of the buttons would light up. He dug a finger into the 32, knowing from experience that it would cancel the rise and automatically stop at whatever floor he was currently at. This didn’t work. 

“H-Hey, J! Stop the elevator!” 

“I am not permitted to do so.” Came the mechanical reply from speakers overhead, the words feeling condemning. Jarvis was forcing him to the top floor.

 **To: Spider-Man**  
**You’re the one coming up, aren’t you? I’m sorry. I just found out.**

**28...29...30...31**

Peter stared in horror at the quickly approaching number, and his eyes darted to the hatch at the top of the enclosed space. He could make it, if he hurried. 

**32**. 

Too late. 

The doors slid open before Peter. His body jolted when he saw the hard faces of Clint and Thor waiting for him. He quickly scanned the spaces behind him, though he couldn’t quite see an escape path. Oh god. What was happening? He’d just been asked to stop by. His hand quickly slid the phone into his waistband, and a small shocked noise escaped his throat. 

“Hey, Spidey. Glad you could make it. Wanna walk with us?” Clint’s eyebrows lowered, and Peter could feel something horribly off about their moods. Even Thor had a dark expression plastered across his face. Peter took a hesitant step back, his hands shooting up defensively, though this caused Thor and Clint to brace for Peter to attempt an escape. He swallowed hard, knowing this wasn’t a fight he could run away from. Instead, he slowly eased up. 

“Okay, man… By the way, looking good. It’s been a while..” He answered back simply, hoping that, the more he complied, the easier it would be to get away if it came down to it. 

Walking through the Avengers hallway with Clint leading and Thor trailing defensively towards the meeting room felt horribly close to death row. Their steps seemed to echo louder than ever before, and time was moving quite slowly. He had no idea what he had done to prompt the sudden scary response, but he felt it was something he wouldn’t be forgiven for. Had they found out his secret? That terrified him more than anything. He couldn’t imagine a light punishment for that one.

The door slid open to the other members already there, including Wanda, Wade in his suit, and Scott. Fury’s seat was pulled out and empty at the head of the table, and Peter really hoped they wouldn’t make him sit there. His prayers remained unanswered, as Thor promptly pushed him down into it. Peter awkwardly adjusted to look as not-guilty as possible, though his head was screaming at him to run. His spidey-senses were firing off warning signals, and his panic was through the roof. They all looked angry, most notably Tony. Even Wade’s demeanor had changed, and for once, he was silent to match the room. 

“S-So,” Peter managed to get out as he sat back in the chair and crossed his arms, a dry humor to his voice. “What’s the party occasion?” 

His eye caught Bruce, who was staring at him gravely, as if he knew Peter’s actual death lay just seconds before him. The intensity of those in the room was what killed him the most. 

A picture slid towards Peter, and he stifled an audible reaction. 

“That was taken 6 months ago.” Peter could hear Tony moving to sit on the table just beside him, voice demanding, though his eyes were trained on the blurry security camera picture.“Care to explain why you were there?” 

That was definitely Spider-man. Behind him, a flaming home. The tunnel had only gone to the outer reaches of the mansion that Harry had said weren’t monitored. It was likely taken from one of the homes across the street. 

“L-Look, Tony, this looks bad, I know.” Peter glanced up at the man, who had no friendliness to return in his eyes. The room felt like it was caving in, and his hands had begun to tremble beneath the table. “But there’s… there’s an explanation.”

“Then start explaining, Man of Spider.” Thor sat heavily down to Peter’s left, and he instinctively moved further back in his chair. He saw several of them tense up as if they were preparing to give chase, and right now, Peter wasn’t sure if having the entire Avengers team after you was worse than having to come up with a way to lie through this. 

“What did you do?.” Tony said again as his hand dropped to the table loudly, leaning in. “Are you the reason he ran in there?” 

Peter swallowed hard as he shook his head, and his eyes darted across the room. Everywhere he looked, hard expressions were staring back at him. All except Wade, who’s head was bowed. Oh god. Not Wade, too. 

“No. No! Just give me a chance to talk.”

“The police came to us earlier. They said a neighbor had called in to report you leaving the scene, and they’d been working on a case for the last half-year that placed you as a cause. Why you had been there, yet hadn’t helped either Peter or the man trapped. They both died on your watch!” Tony’s voice rose as he was talking, until the only place it could go was yelling in his face. Peter’s heart pounded loudly in his chest as he leaned back further-and-further away from him, his back pressing into the chair. His feet tried to find leverage on the floor, but they slipped anxiously around.

“Tony, calm down. We can talk through this.” Steve placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder, who brushed it off bitterly. He looked down at Peter’s tense mask with those gentle eyes that meant he truly was trying to give someone a chance, but his anger was still ever present.

“Why were you crying? At his funeral.” Wade spoke up in an angry tone, dragging Peter’s attention over to him, and he felt his heart shattering in his chest. He couldn’t have him hate him. Believe he was a murderer. He was the only one he could talk to with familiarity. Spider-Man and Deadpool had been close friends, no questions asked, for years. “I thought you actually cared. You guys were friends. But you were guilty, weren’t you?” 

“If you guys would just stop accusing me, I could--!” Peter looked desperately at Bruce, who shook his head. Peter was on his own, and he knew all Bruce wanted him to do was confess, no matter the consequences on his life. “I got there too late. I couldn’t do anything!” 

“Really?” Tony laughed incredulously, his hand scraping across the picture. “The house doesn’t look burned down to me.” 

“They said it might have been assisted suicide.” Natasha muttered, making Peter’s heart rate spike another panicked notch. “But when they found his body, they said there’d been damage to his ribs. Like he’d been stabbed multiple times.” 

Peter’s eyes widened. So the body had been someone Harry had planted.  
“I wouldn’t!” 

“Why did you kill him? What did he do to you?!” Tony suddenly shouted as he leaned towards Peter, who tensed in shock. His breaths were coming out in small, panicked gasps, and he looked towards the doors on instinct. 

“If you guys would listen to me..!” Peter suddenly shouted back in return. He had no explanation. No lie in his mind right then. The request fell short. 

“You had old burns on your hands at the funeral.” Scott pointed out, his voice growing louder. “When you handed me the umbrella. I saw them.” 

This was bad. This was really bad. Spider-Man was going down for murder by his own parents. A fate he’d never suspected. 

He suddenly found a large God’s hand holding down his wrist, and his gloves were torn off and discarded by Tony. As foretold, a small burn scar from where he’d caught one of the flaming beams was etched across his wrist and palm beneath his web-shooters, though fading quickly. His promise ring also glinted against the bright lights.

“Peter trusted you!” A fist swung rapidly towards his cheek. Steve caught Tony’s hand that nearly slammed into his face, though Peter could have easily dodged the attempted punch. Still, it shook him to have his father spitting pure hatred at him. “You were one of his heroes!” 

A horrified gasp left Wanda’s mouth. Looking up at her, he could see her eyes focused on the ring. Peter stared back up at her, tearing his hand away from the table and shoving it in his lap. That hadn’t been quick enough. A second later, she was standing and walking over to him.

“Take off the mask.” She sounded horrified, and near tears. Peter could feel his world melting into red around him.

Peter’s eyes widened. Tony’s yelling insults fell quiet and died off. “What?” 

“No.” 

“Take off the goddamn mask!” Her hands were at it seconds later, pulling at the corners against his neck. Peter gripped ahold of the back of the chair, flipping over the edge and holding his hands up defensively when the others made a lunging move for him. 

“Okay! I-I’ll take it off. Just..” Peter felt his voice break at the words, staring around at the eyes of those he’d loved and cared for who just now looked spiteful. Wade was now staring up at him, frozen, and Peter could practically feel the dawning realization washing over him from where he stood.

“No.” Wade practically begged, a hand shooting up to cover his mouth. “No. Fucking. Way.” 

Peter’s shuttered breaths were the only thing he could quite process at the moment. The sound of his own heart beating throbbed in his ears. His hands shook as they raised towards his face, paused, then continued up to the edge of the mask, hesitating once they felt it. 

“I’m sorry.” He choked out, before pulling it completely off. 

That second was the longest, most horrible moment of his entire life thus far. Even more so than the first time he’d had to witness his parents breakdown over his death. 

The room was deadly silent, The mask fluttered uselessly to the ground, and quiet crying filled the empty space. After a second, Peter realized the sounds were coming from him, and a hand slid up to his face to muffle the hiccups.

“P-Peter?” 

“Oh my god.” 

“Holy shit.” 

“I’m _so sorry_.” Peter shook his head as his fingers cupped his trembling lips. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. B-But Harry th-threatened Bruce. He was going to die.” He looked at his sullen uncle, trying and failing to form the words he wanted to say on his broken voice. “I’m so sorry.” His apologetic expression turned to one of utter sorrow and anger, mostly directed at himself. “You guys weren’t supposed to know! B-Betty. She was killed! B-Because of me. Because I talked to Wade at the funeral.” He paused to take in a sobbing breath, his mind racing. He had a million things to explain, and a million things he couldn’t. He took a step back towards the wall, until his back was pressed against it, and he felt his mind collapsing to the grief. “I’m so stupid. I didn’t w-want to lie to you guys. But I c-couldn’t.. Couldn’t tell…”

 

Desperate arms surrounded him. Looking up through his blurred vision, Peter realized it was Steve. Then Tony. Hot tears fell across his cheeks and neck, that definitely weren’t just from him. And then they were collapsing in a heap on the floor. His head was pressed firmly into Steve’s neck, and his hands clung pitifully to his shirt. 

“ _You’re alive_.” 

“This is a joke, right?” An angry voice demanded out behind them. A door slammed. Peter didn’t know who had left, but it left a chill running through the air. “What the absolute _fuck_.” 

Peter didn’t notice the room slowly clearing out until the three were alone, each Avenger leaving of their own accord. Some were in tears. Some were blinded by anger. Others were silent. All he could focus on was the embrace of his Dads holding him close, the hand stroking his hair, and the sobbing that was drawn from Steve and Peter, Tony clinging to both in disbelief. They stayed there, holding their son until the tears had run out, and even past them drying on their cheeks. No one moved until Steve drew back finally, cupping Peter’s warm face in his large hands, staring at him through eyes that showed all the hurt and pain they’d been through rising to the surface. Peter’s lips slipped open as if to confess everything, though Steve kissed his forehead to silence him. 

“You don’t have to explain now.” Steve spoke softly in the voice that had comforted Peter through the worst times in his life, and pulled his son tenderly back against his chest. “I’m just praying I don’t wake up this time.”  
\--  
Captain America and Iron Man were a pair of the world’s greatest heroes. They’d saved countries. They’d stopped alien invasions. They’d ended corrupted governments killing and torturing their citizens. They’d protected and saved the lives of millions of people. 

Yet, why weren’t they able to save the life of their son? 

It had been a thought that had haunted Steve daily. Losing Peter had been hard enough on the both of them, but knowing his death could have easily been prevented was another tier that had crushed him. If only Steve had slept through his alarm like he often did, and hadn’t woken Peter up on time to leave to the convention with Bruce. If only Tony had decided to go instead of passing it off on the two of them alone. If only Bruce had decided to call Happy to drive them home, instead of deciding they’d walk to meet a taxi. If only, in the nights that Steve or Tony returned home injured from their fights, and Peter had a freak out over the possibility of one of them dying protecting others, Steve hadn’t reminded Peter that in the grand scheme of things, they had a responsibility to risk their life to help people in danger. Knowing that Steve had practically taught Peter to run into that building because he knew there was someone weaker inside had ultimately been what had broken him. 

Natasha had been the unfortunate one to answer the door to the police bearing the news. Her call for Tony that was in his workshop had echoed loud enough that even Steve had heard it from the bedroom. He hadn’t thought much of it at first. The police were always on their doorstep. Yet the visibly shaken look on Natasha’s face had immediately set his nerves on fire. Never, in his wildest guesses, had he thought he’d hear those words. 

_“Your son, Peter, ran into a burning building earlier this afternoon, trying to save someone trapped inside. The responders on the scene were unable to stop him before a gas line exploded. We weren’t able to get him out. I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. He didn’t make it.”_

Steve and Tony didn’t spend their nights following his death curled together and comforting one another as he expected most parents who had lost a child to. Instead, both Steve and Tony had found their own hideaways; Tony sat at a bar located down the street, and Steve laid numbly in bed for a solid week. At night, Tony would climb in drunkenly to his side of the bed and fall asleep, neither saying a word to one another. Both were fine with the lack of acknowledgement; looking at one another was a bitter reminder of what had been stolen from them.

The first time they had actually talked was at the funeral. 

Pepper had been the one that volunteered to make arrangements, which left both clueless to the events transpiring until they’d arrived. In silent agreement, long after the funeral had actually ended, they’d stood side-by-side to gaze at the first picture of Peter either had looked at since that day.

“Don’t go out tomorrow.” Steve said quietly to Tony, and the rain was on the edge of completely burying his voice. Yet he had managed somehow to hear. 

“I won’t.” Tony lacing their fingers together was the most outright emotion either could manage right then, yet it felt as if it was the only natural response. A wordless reminder they had both suffered the same loss, and should be there for one another through it. “I...dont think I can leave again.” 

The silence in the house truly was the hardest part of coping. While Peter had never been the loudest speaker in the world, the small sounds of him existing disappearing had taken its impact. The simple things, like his footsteps when he’d come in from school, the sound of scribbling on paper while studying, the beeps and explosions of his video games, or videos playing from his phone while he lay on the living room sofa had become a normalcy for them. At times, when Steve would pass by his bedroom door that remained closed as to not reveal the emptiness inside, he swore he could hear Peter talking to someone on the phone. Despite knowing it was impossible, he’d throw open the door, only to be met by an empty, unkempt bed. Tony sometimes would sit at his computer desk, staring up at his photography prints he kept thumb-tacked to his corkboard, or play with the figures he’d collected that were scattered across his desk. Otherwise, the room remained untouched. 

The conversation between Steve and Tony began as brief ‘Have a good day’s when Tony left for work, and had slowly transitioned into casual discussions about their days or what to do for dinner. They didn’t discuss Peter until the month mark, when agonizing grief had finally led to swallowed tears over nostalgic memories they shared. They never once discussed his actual death, nor the guilt that was eating them alive from not stopping it. However, the anger phase hit them both suddenly and hard. Late night fights over stupid topics filled quite a few of their days, and accusing words thrown at one another. Tony was always drunk, and Steve was pissed about his lack of sobriety, which didn’t help their raging emotions. Some fights ended quickly. Others lasted days. Bruce tried to convince them to see a therapist. Clint urged them to try to start letting go. Natasha just wanted to yelling not to keep her up at nights as she did her own coping. Thor tried to keep them from killing themselves by not taking care of their bodies.Their caring did nothing to ease their frazzled nerves. They went through another bout of silence for another week. By the end, it seemed they’d finally had their times to privately say goodbye, and life continued on as normal as possible. 

Of course Peter still affected their everyday routine. Steve still had nightmares. Tony still drank, though less frequently as time went on. They still reminisced over pictures, and still cried when a show came on that they’d watched with their son. They had days they could make it through, as life had never paused to give them a break. They had lows where they could barely convince themselves to wake up and their sense of self preservation was lost. While they could never truly move on from the loss of their son, they had learned to cope and take each day without him, which was really what any parent in a similar situation could hope to do. 

Watching Peter’s face unveiled before them was a stab to the heart. They were stunned. Steve felt he was hallucinating. There was no possible way that, through the torture they’d endured for nearly half a year, a ghost was standing right before them, and had apparently been directly hiding in plain sight the entire time. Touching him and feeling his warm skin against his hand felt like being scorched. A wave of unpleasant emotions flooded them, and while a thousand questions and hysterical words needed to be voiced, really, they were all pushed away just by holding him. Peter. Their baby boy. Who was very much alive.  
\--

Peter really didn’t want to walk out to the living room where his family was waiting for him. Knowing he’d have to face his demons and theirs, he wanted to jump out the window and flee. While the reunion with his Dads had been emotional and had filled a void left in his stomach, the fear of knowing everything and everyone he had fucked over and put in danger by coming to the tower that day was overwhelming. Still, Steve and Tony each held him in one way or another, their hands tight, as if they were fearful he would disappear if they released him. If only they weren’t right. 

As expected, there was no smile to greet him as they turned the corner to the quiet sitting area. Peter swallowed down his paranoia as he slipped to sit atop the table behind him. It was a habit Steve usually yelled at him for, though he made no comment now. Tony drew out a chair next to Peter and dropped down, the exhaustion of the day finally getting to him.

Peter tried to find the words to explain to them everything. Every emotion and pain and conflict he’d been through that had prevented him from revealing his identity right away. Yet no sound left his mouth, even as it hung open as if he wanted to talk, though he physically couldn’t get a syllable out. 

“Why?” 

All eyes looked up to stare at a tear-streaked Wanda. Someone who had quickly become the sister he never had, and he’d become another brother she’d lost. 

“Why did you do it? I don’t care about how, or where you’ve been, or how you became Spider-Man and managed to not tell anyone about that. I just want to know why you thought you should lie to all of us? Put us through losing you?” 

Peter took in a shuddering breath, the question reverberating through his chest. Why? That was a loaded question that needed more information than he could offer. So he explained. He told them about Harry, about the kidnapping, about his threatened identity reveal and the still present threats to come after Bruce. He explained the obituary he’d received upon Betty’s murder, as a reminder Harry was always watching him, and there was no escaping. Peter quietly finished the story, his voice slowly disappearing through the explanation, occasionally being interrupted when he had to gather himself as to not burst out in hysterics once more. 

 

“We could have helped you, Peter.” Sam said softly, though Peter could still hear the anger in his voice. He’d been the one yelling earlier, he realized. “You didn’t have to try to take this all alone. You should trust us. We could have taken care of you.” 

“I do trust you, and I know that. But there’s more lives that were in danger than mine. And while you guys have the ability to protect yourselves… They don’t.” 

Tony made an angered noise from beside Peter, and he could see his hands clenching. “So Bruce knew?” 

“Don’t get mad at him. He did what he could.” 

“Except telling us?” 

“Would you have?” Peter challenged, turning on him. “Bruce tried to stop me with a bomb strapped to his chest. He was readily willing to give up his life to stop me from ruining mine. And he wasn’t going to betray my trust, or all of the people Harry could kill in my name that I’m already putting on a kill list by telling you guys this.” He paused, shaking his head. “It’s not his fault. Don’t turn it into that.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us about Spider-Man?” Steve spoke up. While Peter could see the effort to keep his expression mellow and understanding, his eyes were hard. “How long have you been at this?” 

Peter caught his breath, unsure of whether to tell the truth or not. In the end, he decided lying wouldn’t benefit anyone. “5 years.” 

“5 years.” Steve repeated as his face paled. “Do you know how many times I’ve seen Spider-Man almost die? Yet you always came home. You told us they were school fights.” 

“I got better at not getting injured.” Peter flushed, growing uncomfortable. 

“Why didn’t you tell us? Any of us?” Steve repeated, more demandingly, making Peter wince. Seeing this, he at least seemed to back off. 

“You thought Spider-Man was a criminal.” Peter responded more quietly. “What was I supposed to do? By the time I had joined the Avengers… I had gotten too used to keeping it a secret. It felt pointless to tell anyone.” 

“Funny.” Peter slowly glanced up at Wade as he spoke up. He spotted the identical twin to his promise ring rolling through Wade’s fingertips, and it was the first time he’d ever actually seen it not on Wade’s fingers. Wade sounded hurt, and angry, and Peter knew he deserved far worse than he was getting. “I considered him a friend.” 

“W-Wade…” Peter swallowed back hurt as he eyed the ring. “I know.” 

It was quiet for a moment after that, as it seemed to dawn on everyone that his boyfriend had just returned from the dead, and someone else might have actually been handling it worse than them. Peter and Wade met eyes behind Wade’s mask, before Peter dropped his face back towards the ground. Of all people, he felt he could never make this up to him. 

“You put us all through a lot, Peter.” Tony spoke, his voice sounded closer to pain than actual scolding. 

“I’m s--” 

“No. No more apologies.” Tony stood and rounded on him, standing over him with his arms crossed. Peter could feel his heart start to race again, as guilt spread through him. He didn’t quite know the extent of how it had felt for all of them, though he had suffered something similar losing all of them at once. “We know. You’re sorry. But _never_ do something like that again. I know you were scared, but that was one of the worst things you could have done to us.” 

“I still cannot believe you were not dead.” Thor spoke gravely, also looking exhausted from the events that transpired.. “I watched many sufferings over you, Peter.” 

“Your Aunt.” Steve said softly. “Are you going to tell her?” 

Peter paused, and shook his head. “Not yet. Not ‘til I figure this out and find ways to keep her safe. Especially her.” 

“No. You’re not taking care of this.” 

Peter was taken aback to hear the words come from Scott’s mouth, Actually, quite a few people were. He blinked, that step never actually occurring to him. “What?” 

“You heard me. You’re in trouble. I know we’re all emotional and shocked and want to beat the shit out of you for doing this to us but also hug you until you can’t breathe, but you have to deal with someone that’s too big for you to handle, right? That’s why we’re here. To help you.” 

Peter wanted to say no. He didn’t want to put anyone in danger more than he already had, and this was a problem he’d created himself he had to deal with. However, doing things alone had clearly only worked negatively in his favor. So he braved the welling in his chest and his inward voices screaming at him not to let them help, nodding. “Harry. We grew up together. He knows everyone in my life, and he’s targeting anyone I’ve ever had a conversation with. If we take him down, we’ll have time to figure out who’s working for him.” 

“Okay. We’ll start trying to figure out where he is.” Natasha was leaning against the wall, the only other person besides Steve not to be sitting. She was also the only one that looked as if she was ready to kill Peter. “But for now…” Peter tensed as he watched her approaching. His spidey-senses warned him to jump, though he stayed perfectly still. A slap landed loudly across his cheek as he recoiled slightly, though he let her have it. She deserved it. 

“Natasha!” 

She had her arms wrapped around him in a hug a moment later. He hesitated, but gradually returned it, swallowing thickly. 

“I missed you.” He mumbled against her shoulder. She tightened her squeeze on him, his eyes closing as he let the emotions run wild through him again. 

“I’m never going to forgive you.” 

“I know.” 

“But I missed you, too, no matter how stupid I think you are.” 

Peter let a soft laugh fall from his lips, which seemed to surprise them all in the room. Peter hadn’t felt any sort of positive emotion in the past 4 months, and he really needed this. Terribly. Apparently the others had too, because the next hour was a hell of a lot of tears, embraces, and threats from everyone as he cycled through emotional reunions with the people he’d grown up with. 

Though there was one person in particular he hadn’t gotten to talk to yet, whom he needed the most reconciling with.

\-- 

The Avengers split off to locate Harry and plan for his capture. While it was hard on all of them to depart, wanting to spend time with Peter, they also recognized that Steve and Tony deserved moments alone with him, and the situation was urgent. It had taken a lot of convincing for his parents to allow Peter to leave the room and not be in their direct sights, though he promised he wouldn’t disappear on them. He could still see the discomfort with being separated from him, but someone else also needed time. 

Peter slipped out onto the hangar as the door shut behind him. As he expected, Wade sat in Peter’s comfort spot, solemnly looking out into the distance. He slowly sat down beside him, resting a hand over Wade’s gently, testingly mostly, to see if he’d draw it away. Much to his surprise, he flipped his hand and cradled his fingers within his own. 

“You know I wanted to tell you I was Spider-Man.” Peter said quietly, his heart racing. He wasn’t sure, out of all people, how he could apologize to Wade. He was the one person Peter didn’t have to lie to, yet he had. “It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you.” 

“I’ve told him a lot of embarrassing things about you over the years.” Wade said jokingly, though the hurt in his voice was evident. He was obviously struggling to keep up his normal facade. “Now you both know my secret desires.” 

“Secret? You always told me anyways.” Peter answered earnestly, finding it hard to keep up with the jokes. 

“I can’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to tell me, either.” Wade murmured back, and that quickly ended the lightheartedness of the conversation.

“You were going to propose?” Peter looked up as he Wade lifted their hands, and gently planted a kiss on Peter’s knuckles. 

“Was.” 

“Not anymore?” 

“You died.” 

Peter swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut. His heart and stomach were twisting in horribly uncomfortable ways. “You’re the one I wanted to tell the most. Out of anyone. But I couldn’t put you through that.” 

“You can’t do that to me.” Peter looked up at Wade, who had slipped off his mask, not needing it in front of Peter. Peter had repetitively told him how beautiful he thought Wade was, even when suffering hard emotions like now. His free hand rubbed awkwardly under his eyes, and Peter could feel his own tears threatening to fall. 

“Lie?” 

“Die.” Wade’s sweet eyes were looking at him, and it was a sight Peter had missed oh so dearly. The raw emotion in Wade’s voice was something Peter didn’t have to experience often, and definitely not to this degree. “Go to whatever shithole lies beyond this even bigger shithole. That’s the one place you can go that I can’t follow. I’m not ready to live without you.” 

Peter nodded solemnly, his head slowly pressing down against Wade’s shoulder. His comforting arms wrapped around him, and soft lips pressed against the top of his head.

“I love you.” Peter whispered as tears fell down his cheeks, though he felt a great weight lifting off his shoulders. This was something he didn’t want to lose. 

Wade grabbed Peter’s hand. He felt the promise ring slip off of his finger, and in that moment, Peter panicked. He was terrified that Wade had taken it all back, beyond hurt that Peter would do this to him. That was something Peter couldn’t face. He couldn’t do this alone. To his relief, the ring was slowly replaced back on his finger, and he felt another set of kisses on his skin.

When his hand was returned tenderly to his lap, his eyes glanced down at the diamond encrusted engagement ring that glittered back up at him. His heart skipped a beat in disbelief, and each time he blinked, he was surprised to find it still there and not a product of the chaos he’d been through that day. 

“I’m not going to waste another day with you.” Peter sat up enough to gaze up at the face of his future, his expression softening to a tearful grin. It felt so strange to finally, finally be able to smile, yet it made perfect sense his best-friend and lover would be the one to make him do it. Wade carefully pressed a hand down to Peter’s cheek, running a thumb under his eye. “Even if this world wants to fuck up our lives and tear us apart, all I need to know is that, even if we’re alone, we’re alone together. And you owe me after all of this.” Wade paused, and Peter took the chance to suck in a shaky breath. “So you’re going to marry me Peter Parker.” 

Peter moved his own hand up to grip Wade’s and gently pull it away from his face, interlocking their fingers. His voice was soft, though it held all the love and sorrow he’d felt for Wade since they’d been apart. “Yes, Wade Wilson. I am.” He leaned up and planted a gentle kiss on his lips, and in that twisted moment, the world seemed to make the most sense. 

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just if you guys cared, too, the two main songs I used for inspiration were Hold On by Extreme Music and Left Behind from Spring Awakening! Thank you for the support through writing this!


	4. BONUS CHAPTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA well, this was only going to be 3 chapters! But I got enough requests to ask for a resolution chapter, so after a month and a half of brainstorming how to end this, I finally got one up! Sort of ties the plot completely closed, but mostly focused on Tony, Steve, and Peter. 
> 
> I feel like my writing kinda sucked here, but that's fine. At least it's done!

“No…!” 

The gravestone of his son glimmered back up at Tony under the soft moonlight. Wilting flowers were strewn along the polished surface, the moisture of the air causing them to sag further. The cemetery was empty, save for a few birds that flew overhead. 

The snow had dried up the sky, now lying in piles at his feet. It was cold, and the air was biting, but Tony couldn’t drag himself from the spot. He’d spent multiple nights within the past week coming here, and the ground had begun to indent and contort around the shape of his dress-shoes. 

A flickering light above his head caught his attention. Looking up, his eyes settled on the video of a fire roaring in the open air. There was a pale, burned hand reaching out for him, as if it could see him witnessing the brutal demise. A boy was screaming. No, not a boy. Peter. Peter was screaming as the fire melted his skin. Tony froze, petrified by the sight, unable to tear his eyes away as much as he begged himself to. The air around him seemed to ignite, his vision being overtaken by flames. Peter’s screaming grew louder, now calling Tony’s name, pleading not to die. He didn’t want to die. He couldn’t--!

“Tony!” 

Awake. Tony was awake. His eyes snapped open, the fleeting image of a gruesome dream dissolving away at the corners. His chin seemed to move on its own to look at the worried face of Steve, though Tony eventually registered a hand gripping his cheek. He swallowed hard to get air to his burning lungs, processing the rapidly spreading pain in his chest, both from breath deprivation and the racing of his heart. Steve allowed him another moment of registering the fact he was no longer trapped in the nightmare, before strong hands slipped down to his shaking ones to calm them. 

“You’re fine.” Steve whispered, looking down to the pale fingers that seemed as if they’d break. “We’re fine.” 

“Peter.” Tony managed to croak out, his voice hoarse. Had he been making noises? Shouting? He couldn’t tell. 

“Is that what you were dreaming about?” The tone of Steve’s voice reflected his understanding. His hands disappeared, and Tony watched him stand from the couch as he sat up himself. “He went back to his room after you fell asleep. Do you want me to get him?” 

Tony rubbed at his temple to alleviate the aching, taking note that sleeping on the couch really didn’t do good for your head. He heaved a sigh, forcing himself to his feet. “No. No need to bother him.” 

Steve’s eyes softened, though he knew that wasn’t an option. His own similar night scares had taught them both that seeing him breathing was the only way to eliminate the fear. “He’s probably still awake. I’m sure he at least wanted to say goodnight.” 

Tony ran his hand again over his eyes, forcing the sleep out of them. A thick breath of acceptance showed his resolve as he nodded, walking towards the hallway. “I’ll be in the room soon.” He muttered, his heart rate quietly returning to normal. 

“Take your time.” 

Tony paused at the bedroom door, noting it was part-ways open. They’d been weird about it being closed since Peter had returned, though it was an unspoken discussion. Somehow, they’d all mentally made the agreement Peter wouldn’t leave it shut, at least for a while, until their lives started to return back to normal. He’d only been back with them for 3 days, and at times, Tony still had moments of disbelief in which he had to confirm it wasn’t a part of some twisted dream. But every time, he came back to find Peter alive and well, and that was really all he could ask for. 

Tony knocked briefly on the door, waiting for Peter’s ‘come in’ before entering. He pushed open the door to find Peter sitting on his bed, dawned in pajamas and his laptop propped on his legs. He smiled up at his Dad, though he could clearly tell something was off. He had always been horribly ignorant when it came to reading other people’s emotions, yet, since he’d come back, it seemed he had been rather skilled at treading water carefully around them, as to not say anything to spark Steve and Tony’s haywire emotions. Not that he needed to; he had his own issues to work through. 

“Hey, Dad.” Peter greeted, sitting up and setting his laptop aside on the bed. He drew his legs up criss-cross under him, raising his eyebrows in curiosity at Tony’s sudden appearance. “Is everything…?” 

“No worries.” Tony slipped into the swivel chair pulled up to Peter’s desk. Since they obviously knew his secret, the desk was now covered in his torn suits that Clint had been helping him sew repairs into, along with the web shooters Tony had fixed. He picked at one of the raw edges of the spandex, giving himself room to avoid looking at Peter. He didn’t want to appear too emotionally vulnerable as that wasn’t his style, but especially not when Peter had more to work out than comforting his middle-aged father. “Just wanted to come annoy you before I went to bed.” 

Peter cracked a grin, which was reassuring when Tony finally glanced up at him. He felt his own body loosen up, the smile being one that had been his reason to wake up most days. He and his son had always been close in a weird way; they didn’t talk about their lives, or their problems, and definitely not their secrets or past, but they were there to help one another cope through hard times with stupid humor, and Peter had been his voice of reason in way too many situations. 

“You couldn’t even make it through the movie.” 

“Are you calling me old?” 

“Your words.” 

“Smartass.” Tony rolled his eyes, turning in the chair to face him. He caught a glance at the screen of his laptop, met with a picture of Harry Osborn from a few years ago printed across it. Peter followed his eyes down to the monitor, his breath catching. “You know we won’t let him hurt May.” 

“She’s not the only one I’m worried about.” Peter mumbled miserably, the words immediately making his mood shift. He drew his knees to his chest, depositing his chin to rest on them. Finding Harry had been one of the main goals of the past few days, as well as keeping constant watch over Bruce for his safety. As far as Peter knew, no one had been murdered yet. That was a heavy ‘yet.’ “It might not even be someone like her he goes after. Even if it was just my fourth grade teacher, or the girl I used to sit by in math class... No one deserves to die just because they knew me. He knows he’d still be hurting me.” 

“We’ll find him.” Tony had no doubt on the matter. SHIELD had already been doing their own digging, monitoring every account he could possibly possess, and keeping eyes on the city from all angles. Jarvis was also constantly at work, searching databases for possible sightings of the Green Goblin in or around New York. May had received an ‘emergency transfer request’ to nurse at another hospital in California for the time being, with two SHIELD agents watching over her. Peter wanted to be out protecting others, but with no idea of who Harry would target, he had nothing to base his patrol off of. Besides that, Tony and Steve had been keeping Peter hostage in the apartment, Wade promising to go out on nightly patrols in his place, to give him time with his family. 

“I know.” Peter sighed, though the doubt was still clear on his face. He looked tired, Tony noticed, with the bags under his eyes still drooping and his face looking paler than he’d remembered. However, at least he seemed to be doing better than when he’d unmasked in front of them looking like death. 

Before he’d really had time to consider his actions, Tony had crawled onto Peter’s bed. An arm cast softly over his shoulders, pulling him in to rest somewhat tensely on his chest. Peter eventually relaxed into the hold, appreciating the attempt at comfort. They sat quietly in the dim silence of the night, the only sounds interrupting the peace being the creaking of the tower. It wasn’t awkward, really. Neither had anything they needed to say, or felt compelled to speak. Tony was too focused on the fact that this was Peter; the happy, dorky teen he’d raised and cherished. This was a moment he thought he’d lost the chance to have. The fact his son was alive alongside him… 

He swallowed hard when he felt the burning in his eyes, which he quickly moved to wipe away with the back of his hand. He wasn’t the emotional type, and he definitely wasn’t the crying type. But there was a powerful force to holding the one person you cared about more than anyone else in the world, especially after the hell-ish six months he’d been through. 

“I’ll get out. I know you have better things to do than listening to me- which is insulting, by the way.” Tony said as he moved to look down at Peter. However, he was met with closed eyes and a softened expression. Tony wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but apparently long enough for Peter to pass out on him. He sighed lightly, moving out from underneath the limp body to lay him down against the pillows. “Goodnight, sleepyhead. Glad to have you home.” He murmured, picking a hand through his hair. Before he’d made it out the door, he glanced back over his shoulder at the bed that was no longer empty night-after-night, his hand hovering over the light switch. Peter was alive. That was all that mattered now. 

\--

“So you two are…?” 

“Engaged.” Peter breathed somewhat cautiously. He glanced to his right at the mercenary dressed down to civies and a mask beside him, hands tucked neatly between his thighs. He seemed all too happy to be there at first glance, though Peter knew he was nervous. Hell, Peter was nervous. He hoped his parents would go easier on Wade, considering the circumstances. At first, they’d hated the idea of the two of them together, though, as time went on, Steve had begun to accept him, particularly when he and Peter had proven to truly care about one another. Tony was still on edge about their relationship before Peter had left, and he had no idea if he had faced any sort of transformation during the time he was gone. 

“Really?” Wanda fell beside Peter on the couch, groping for his hand. When she’d successfully stolen it, she held it up for the other Avengers to see. His ring glimmered proudly on his finger, and he felt someone else’s fingers smushing up in the mass to study it. 

“Yessiree.” Wade answered with a smirking tone, obviously loving the attention on the jewelry he’d bought Peter. “Tying the Lord’s heavenly knot with our secret attack on traditional marriage.” 

“That’s great!” Sam congratulated. He ruffled Peter’s hair sweetly, then extended a hand for Wade to shake. “Good man. I know you two’ll be happy together.” 

Peter grinned in return to the support, divulging his attention back to Steve and Tony that stood nearby. Somehow, they hadn’t had very big reactions. Not to be conceited, but Peter was sure they’d be at least a bit more shocked with more yelling accompanied along with it. Yet, Steve was sporting a supportive smile, and Tony at least didn’t seem angry. This could mean they were doing what they could as to not provoke a fight, or…? 

“Did you guys know?” Peter suddenly blurted out, tilting a head at his Dads. “Did I make it that obvious?” 

Steve rubbed the back of his head somewhat sheepishly, giving a small shrug. “Wade came to us around October last year to ask permission. And we gave it to him, of course, even with a few bumps in the road.” He nudged Tony’s side, who looked away with an indignant silence. 

Peter gaped at Wade, who looked all too happy by the attention to be embarrassed in the slightest. His surprise eventually melted back away into a grin. His hand settled over his fiance’s,- that felt great to say - squeezing lightly. Wade was a disgustingly sweet romantic. Peter was glad he’d already discussed it with his parents, saving them the awkward confrontation that could possibly come along with confessing such a thing right then. 

“This is very great news. Congratulations.” Thor clasped a heavy hand on Peter’s shoulder, making him jump in surprise, his attention being stolen from the somewhat intimate moment with Wade. He gave Thor an appreciative look, patting the large hand that drowned out his arm. 

“I’m glad for the both of you.” Natasha confirmed as well, creating a chorus of congratulations among the heroes. A blush had neatly settled over Peter’s cheeks, though he didn’t mind the embarrassing attention. It was great to be in a room with them, talking like a family again. He’d missed it. 

“I-” 

“Peter.” 

Peter cut himself off upon Tony’s summoning for his eyes. He was no longer relaxing back against the wall, his body at full alert, eyes glued to the screen of his phone. When he’d turned it around, a video of Harry Osborn was cast across it. Worse than just the Green Goblin’s appearance, in his hands was Flash Thompson, who looked absolutely terrified to be threateningly suspended over a circle of Oscorp robots with guns trained on his struggling body. 

_“The itsy-bitsy Spider crawled up the water spout.” Harry taunted on the microphone. A shot rang out, making Flash wince in utter fear, though it narrowly missed his flaring limbs. “Up came the bullets to draw the Spider out.”_

“That was horrible.” Clint muttered, though he was shushed by Natasha. 

Peter blanched as the horrified look crossed Flash’s face. As much as he and Flash had never gotten along, he had no idea why he was there, and even when he was saved, he didn’t deserve to be scarred for life. 

“Do you know where he is?” Peter demanded, shooting up from the couch. “We have to go.” 

“SHIELD has visual of him. He’s not far out of the city.” Tony confirmed. “Let’s suit up.” 

\--

Peter dropped from the aircraft the closer it got to the supposed area, swinging the rest of his way towards Harry. He had gotten the others to agree to let Peter first approach alone, as to not give Harry room to freak out and kill Flash in a twisted revenge. If things went south, or if the robots started to attack, the Avengers would immediately jump in. He’d received several promises that Harry wouldn’t see the next morning when they got their hands on him, though Peter had requested everyone’s word they wouldn’t kill him. This had been debated at first, though when they saw the seriousness of Peter’s beliefs, they begrudgingly accepted not to let him die. Though they couldn’t promise his health beyond that. 

He caught visual sight of Harry a few minutes later, centered over one of the run-down streets of the area. Peter swung down to stand underneath Harry, hands thrown up in surrender. The robots shifted their guns to train on him, though Peter hardly flinched. “Harry!” He shouted loud enough to be heard over his glider, voice hard. “Let him go. He didn’t do anything. “

“Isn’t that the _fun,_ Spider-Man? To watch them die, when they don’t even know what their crime is?” Harry chuckled as he dropped Flash a few inches by his sleeve, recatching him after he shouted in surprise. Terrified eyes stared back at Peter’s mask, pleading to be saved. 

“This is between us. I’m sorry about your father, Harry, really. I didn’t kill him, though!” 

“But you did.” Harry chuckled, his voice suddenly rising in polar anger a second later. “You killed both of us! Except _I_ had to save myself! And look at me; stronger than ever. Stronger than him, and you. I have more power than you could ever want! And I’ll keep killing the people you knew, until you learn not to fuck with me, Spider-Man!” 

The robots creaked as their guns were loaded. A loud roaring of gunfire spread over the city street. Peter’s body tensed in preparation to dodge, though the bullets were stopped halfway. Looking up, Captain America was in front of him, blocking the rain of bullets with his shield. “Go!” 

Peter shot a web up at Harry’s glider. An arrow shot through the air into the grotesque hand holding onto Flash, the fingers giving way with an annoyed shout. Peter caught him immediately in his arms, swinging past the chaos towards one of the buildings nearby. The scene might have had a comedic tone- Peter’s childhood bully clinging to him for dear life- if only he found sick humor in those situations. Right now, his concern was keeping Flash and other civilians safe. He dropped down into an alleyway, depositing Flash behind one of the trash cans to remain hidden against a wall. “Stay low. Don’t come out until I come find you.” Peter ordered. He turned to run, though he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. 

“Th-Thanks, man. You guys are amazing.” 

Peter swallowed hard, knowing it was his own stupidity that landed Flash in the situation. He didn’t deserve the gratitude. “No, thank you for holding out until we got here.” He nodded back. With that, he lept out of the dark alley, heading back into the fight. 

He came back to a war-zone. Natasha, Steve, Wade, and Thor were fighting the heavy-duty battle prototypes while dodging a sea of endless ammo. Tony’s repulsors were firing off at Harry, the air space igniting in explosives. Clint was shooting arrows anywhere they were needed, while Wanda, Sam, and Scott checked civilian homes and kept curious onlookers in safety. Bruce was still in the hovercraft, on hold in case the situation had turned dire. Peter paused only briefly to take in the scene, eyes meeting Wade’s momentarily, who offered him a reassuring thumbs up. His heart felt swelled. This was his family. People he loved, who returned it. People he trusted. They didn’t have to be here, helping him fight, but they wanted to be, and that was what made them close. 

Peter cut himself off from his own nostalgia when Tony flew close. Peter shot out a web at the leg of his armor, hitching a ride up in the air to search for the chance to knock Harry off his board. 

“Give up, Harry!” Peter shouted when they’d gotten close enough, flipping up to grab ahold of the shoulder of Iron Man. They hovered opposite of one another, Harry’s devlish look constantly switching between sadistic pleasure and anger at his loss he was facing. His arm tensed and another bomb was hurtled at them, Tony wasting no time in pulling up to shoot his repulsor at the explosive before it could hit the two. He took the chance to readjust their spacing, slowly closing the space between him and the Goblin. “I don’t want to hurt you! Let us help you!” 

“You lost that chance, Parker!” Another bomb flew their way. This time, an arrow pierced its core before it had barely left Harry’s hands, igniting in his face. The force of the blast sent his glider careening towards the ground. Before he could regain his stance, Thor had cracked his hammer down on the side of the glider, dragging it towards the ground. Harry had no choice but to collapse aboard and roll off the edge towards the asphalt, the God’s power shaking and twisting the machine. 

Peter shot out a web before Harry could hit the ground, catching him by his wrist. His body jutted to a stop, momentarily dazed. A second later, he was wrenched from the web to the floor, Natasha’s body wrestling him to the ground. (Really, the fight was one-sided). 

Tony and Peter had barely touched the ground when Natasha threw the first punch. It cracked out loudly, even over the sounds of the last few robots being destroyed by Wade and Steve. Harry’s head snapped back against the ground, though another hit twisted it to the side. Peter stumbled to her side to grip her hand, stopping her in the midst of throwing another fist. 

“He’s not worth it, Nat.” Peter attempted to reason, refusing to relinquish his hold even as she moved to wrench her arm away. 

“He’s not worth saving, after what he did to you.” Natasha spit back, using her free hand to bang Harry’s limp head against the road. Harry seemed unphased by the abuse, though discolored blood dripped from his fractured nose. “What he did to _us._ ” 

“Everyone is worth saving.” Peter crouched down beside her, resting his gloved hand over hers. She looked pissed that Peter was taking this away from her, though he had expected it. She’d been the one most adamant about creating their own justice. “I know you’re angry… I am, too. But revenge for you guys… for me… for Betty, for Gwen… That’s not on us to decide. We can get him help. He didn’t want to be this way.” He finally settled his eyes over Harry’s distorted face, the guilt of being unable to save him souring his mind. “Harry wouldn’t want this. This isn’t him.” 

“You’re the one that made me this way, Peter.” Harry growled through the swelling of his jaw. Peter could see the pure hatred in his eyes. He looked nothing like the friend he’d grown up with any longer. Besides his mutated body, he didn’t resemble the memory in any way. 

“I know.” Peter swallowed, looking down solemnly. “I’m sorry.” 

Peter was thrown off balance momentarily by a hard tug to his shoulder. Strong arms laced around his waist, and a moment later he realized they belonged to Wade. “This isn’t your fault, sweetums.” He whispered back to him. Blood seeped from several wounds in his skin, though he didn’t seem bothered by them. He pulled lightly on Peter to lead him away from Harry, drawing him away from the crowd of heroes that were really not-too-happy to see Harry pulling another stunt. “I know you got this whole I-need-to-save-everyone-guilt-complex, and while that can be really fucking cute sometimes, you gotta let certain things go. Including protecting that douche nozzle. He made himself this way, no matter how much he likes to make you feel like it was you. You didn’t inject that serum.” 

Peter felt fingers crawling over his heart and squeezing it, leaving him with an uncomfortable pressure in his chest. The weight of the heavy situation, and all the consequences of his actions had become too much to try to escape from. He nodded awkwardly to show he was listening, even if he didn’t entirely agree with Wade. 

Steve’s shield dislocated the last of the robot heads from the rest of the framework, leaving the street an empty battlefield. He clasped Peter on the shoulder as he passed, giving him a gentle smile from behind his mask. “We have him, and we’ll get Flash home safely. Don’t stress too much.” 

Peter had a hard time ignoring the scene behind him, despite Wade prompting him to. As much as he wanted to hate Harry for everything he’d done to him, to his family, and to his friends, he found it hard not to put the blame on the mental break Harry had suffered. He never wanted Harry dead, though he knew asking for him to remain unscathed was pushing it.

The helicopter landed to fetch them a few minutes later. Tony and Steve effortlessly dragged the bruised and bloodied Goblin between them, and the cracked smirk he gave Peter made his discomfort escalate tremendously. Flash was loaded into the back of Happy’s car along with Clint and Nat, while the others loaded their tired bodies onto the aircraft after them. Peter hung back as he stared up at the sleek black metal and the crowded space inside, his heart continuing to pound loudly in his chest. Even with a few distant voices taking turns calling his name, the only thing he could really hear was a low, raspy giggling. Harry was taunting him, and he knew how much torture he was putting him through. 

Peter nearly knocked out Sam’s teeth when he was grabbed without warning, pulled from the dazed stupor he’d been collapsing into. He suddenly grew hyper aware of the attention he was receiving from all sides, their eyes making a chill course through his clammy skin. 

“I, uh..” Peter backed off the from doors to the aircraft, the space seeming much more cramped than it had on the way over. “I’m… I’d prefer to swing home.” 

Tony’s face contorted to one of confusion as he stood, the joints of his suit clinking together. The sharp noise made Peter wince, and he could feel the sounds vibrating in his chest. “Are you hurt?” 

“No! No, I’m fine. I just… Look, I promise I’ll come home. I just need a second.” 

Tony and Steve’s eyes knit into contact, a silent conversation happening that Peter wanted to be a part of. He knew they were both uncomfortable with him leaving their sights, and he couldn’t ask them not to be, but right now he wanted time away from Harry to process it all. 

“I’ll go with him!” Scott was hopping off the aircraft a moment later, and his hand loudly connected with Peter’s shoulder as he recoiled. Tony’s reaction read ‘definitely not’, though his formal denial of the proposition was cut off instead by Steve. 

“That would be great.” The blond hero agreed, dragging Tony back down to his seat. “Get home quickly. No detours. We’ll be waiting for you upstairs.” 

“Got it.” Scott answered to save Peter the thought. A quick wave from Wade left the two insects alone, gaping at the silence that was brought along with the previously chaotic street. Peter felt that, at last, he could finally catch a breath, not having overbearing adults hovering over him every second. Scott seemed to be giving him personal space as well, waiting for the young adult to slow his busy mind before he even thought about interrogating him. 

“You good?” 

Peter looked up at Scott with a slight grimace, and the man held up relenting hands to show his innocent intentions. “I won’t pry. Just making sure. Parent thing, y’know?” He paused. “And friend thing. Just remember we’re all here for you to talk to. We want to talk to you. Not just about you disappearing, but we don’t even know where you went? What cool things you did? Was it weird, seeing your own funeral. I have dreams about that sometimes.” 

Peter remained silent for moments, processing the questions thrown at him one by one. Eventually, he gave up a smile that may or may not have been visible through the mask. Scott seemed to read his body language either way, brightening up. “Really weird.” Peter admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Bad weird. Like, I wanted to know what people would say about me. But it made me realize… funerals aren’t about us, dude. They’re about the people we left behind. For example, I never would have chosen my cousin singing some song about angels for my funeral.” Peter made a grossed out noise, stretching his arms above his head. “More like some indie band playing over speakers. And food. A lot of food. No rain, either. That was a bummer.” 

The older man laughed quietly, crouching to sit back on the asphalt that was covered in the crumbles of the disintegrated sidewalk. Harry had done a number on this street. “If we’re still hanging around one another when I die, make sure I get rock music at mine. I don’t care what my ex-wife says; my daughter would love it.” 

Peter put effort to make his laugh not sound as anxious as he felt, enjoying the normal conversation between them- as normal as it could be classified. He’d felt like everyone else was treading on broken glass around him. While had had been more touchy than normal, he also wasn’t a delicate child that would break when they brought up heavy conversation. And the other times they were decidedly more invasive, the talk was entirely focused around the loss the entire household had experienced. While he couldn’t order them to erase 6 months of emotional damage in a grand total of 4 days, he at least wished he could be included back in their family life without feeling...awkward. 

“So, how are we heading back?” Scott was on his feet again, jogging in place to keep the blood pumping through his legs. “Calling a cab? Swinging? Want me to go small and hop on your shoulder so I’m not a weight?” 

“You can hold onto my neck.” Peter paused, cracking a grin. “Honestly, it’s more fun to be normal sized. Plus, it’s not like you’re gonna be heavy or anything, if that’s your worry.” 

Scott stared at him for a moment, his decision making dancing over his face. His eyes then trailed down the lean body waiting for his resolution, the teasing voice shooting out a second later. “Knowing it’s you under that suit is throwing me off.” He snorted. “Seeing you like this, I feel like I could throw a car at you because I know you’d be fine. Out of your suit, I was afraid to look at you too fast in case you broke.” 

Peter made an indignant noise, which only served to make Scott laugh harder. “Just grab my neck, Lang.” He grumbled, extending his arm. A web shot from his wrist, hugging the roof of one of the nearby buildings. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go home, kid.” 

\--

_“Another miracle story this evening. The story of how Tony Stark’s son returned to life. This one is a big one, too. You definitely won’t want to miss the details.”_

Peter was surprised to find a cold beer shoved in his face, the bottle rolling into his slender fingers as they wrapped casually around the neck. He moved his gaze up to Tony’s face, even more so shocked to see the overprotective parent offering him alcohol. 

“Happy 21st birthday.” Tony grunted, moving to sit on the loveseat opposite of Peter. He handed his own beer over to Steve, who opened it for him routinely without so much as a thought before passing it back. Peter followed suit, cracking the lid open with his bare hands as if it weren’t even there. “We didn’t get to celebrate properly, and I doubt you spent that night falling on your ass alone.” 

Peter’s eyes softened, ignoring the repulsive smell that was even more pungent due to his heightened senses. He glanced back at the frosted bottle, almost hesitant to put the glass to his lips. “I have to admit.” He started, laughing lightly as he looked back at his fathers. “This isn’t my first drink.”

“Yeah, Wanda told us that a while ago. We’ll talk about your punishment later.” Tony smirked, taking a swig. “If you don’t want it, it’s fine. Just figured you’d need something to make it through them butchering your cover story.” 

“You’re what’s going to mess it up.” Natasha pointedly looked back at the Stark, folding her arms. “At least you’d taken an hour off drinking beforehand. Seriously, you can’t do a press statement about your supposedly dead son tipsy and acting like you don’t care about anything.” 

“That’s the charm.” Tony clicked his tongue, though the news story returning to the TV screen the small group was gathered around cut him off. 

_”Peter Parker, the adopted son of the head of Stark Industries and famous superhero, Tony Stark, gave his life 7 months ago in an attempt to save the lives of others. The man supposedly ran into this burning mansion when firefighters were struggling to save the owner stuck on the top floor. This man, Jamison Morre, unfortunately passed away in the fire as well. However, this case was investigated further upon when details about this case were uncovered by police in the 15th Precinct alongside the help of an anonymous source.”_

“Anonymous source?” Clint mused. “A friend of yours, Tony?” 

“Peter’s, actually.” 

Peter shrugged, sitting back to sink into the couch. The beer was already empty, resting idly by his foot on the floor. “It pays to know other vigilantes that have an in with the cops. Which I, of course, don’t.” 

_”...past discoveries lead police to believe that Morre was involved in human trafficking throughout Hell’s Kitchen, stemming from his Manhattan home. When remains were unable to be identified as belonging to Peter specifically, police began to search the home for any possible signs of Peter even dying.”_

“Please tell me you guys didn’t get some random ashs and told it was mine.” 

“I didn’t want you haunting the house, anyways.” 

“Ssh.” 

_“‘...a tunnel, located in the basement of the house, leading to the outside. We believe as many as 12 slaves were held captive in the home at the time of the fire, and lead downstairs by an associate of Morre. Peter may have been taken during this time, and forced out along with the other slaves, who we are unable to locate, or identify, at this moment.’_

“How did you guys figure this out?” Clint leaned forward, looking intrigued by the lucky coincidence. “You saw the slaves?” 

“Weren’t any there.” Peter explained, only half interested in seeing their painted lie up on the screen. While he had been whole heartedly against going public with his return, Steve had reminded him of the family he left behind, and the publicity surrounding the Avengers already. Peter wouldn’t even be able to leave the house without getting caught in someone’s camera, and it was bound to end up back with his aunt. “But every rich guy keeps a secret. I just had to ask Daredevil to find a connection back to this guy. Turned out to be a real scumbag, too. Part of a gang he was already working on. All he had to do was figure out the patterns of the exchanges, then sneak me in to make it convincing.” 

_”Police had already been working on a sting to end this string of kidnapping, and found Peter miraculously alive, along with 20 others, last week.”_

The cell phone video playing under the reporter’s words made each of them at least a bit uncomfortable. In the distance was a group of young adults covered in dirt and blankets, being helped to police cars and escorted to an ambulance if required. Peter was drawn into one of the furthest cars, being driven by Mahoney. 

_“Peter was reunited with his father, as well as the other victims of this unfortunate situation. Tony Stark delivered a statement on the situation earlier this week.”_

“Oh boy.” Natasha commented dryly. “Can’t wait.” 

_”’I am very glad to have my son back in my home and alive. I would like to offer sympathy to all of the other parents affected alongside me, and to the kids that were part of this with my son. I’ll have him back in school next week because education matters, and I hope you all have a good night. Godbless America and our policemen and women.’”_

An audible groan was elicited from Natasha, Clint being too busy laughing his ass off to care. Meanwhile, Tony was busy looking amused by his own behavior, offering a shrug. “I told them I didn’t make TV appearances without back-up dancers.” 

“I guess I wasn’t enough of a reason to try.” Peter shook his head, standing up as he offered to take Tony’s beer bottle back to the recycling bin. “Anyways, it all worked out. Tony was more like… a finishing touch to the story. And I’m officially alive, and I guess getting educated soon, so everything is okay now.” 

“As long as you keep your room clean and don’t try to sneak off anymore.” Steve reminded, and it was Peter’s turn to groan from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, yeah. Parent duties. Got it. Being 21 doesn’t excuse me.” Peter reappeared in the front room a second later, reclaiming his spot on the couch. “Anyways, Aunt May’s coming by for dinner again, Nat, so make sure you keep the others in check.” 

“Right.” Natasha pushed herself to standing, unfurling her arms to stretch. “You focus on making yourself look more exhausted than you always do.” He flashed her a smile in reply, her and Clint clearing the room and leaving the family alone. There was a gentle silence that relaxed over the living room, though it didn’t entirely feel awkward. Just comfortable. Normal. 

“That was smart of you, to figure this out. We should thank Daredevil later. Properly.” Steve added in his praising tone, talking in the way that all parents did at times, when they acted as if their child waking up that morning was a huge accomplishment. “A bit dramatic. But smart.” 

“Glad to have those good ideas home, kiddo.” Tony nodded his agreement, his arms crossing over his chest as he rested back against Steve’s side. 

Peter was glad to see the intimacy returning between the both of them. He had noticed quickly that they seemed to have a great barrier dividing them, and they didn’t seem to touch, or interact, much anymore. The simple act set his own heart alight, and he found a sweet smile spreading over his lips out of sheer happiness to have them back in his life. He had missed this, all of this, and the fact that he believed he’d never retrieve this 3 weeks ago had killed him. But now Harry was in SHIELD’s hands hopefully getting treatment, he was engaged to the man he’d fallen for, his parents were as doting (and nagging) as ever, and he’d somehow managed to snag his Aunt back in all of this. 

He sent a silent ‘sorry’ up to Betty for getting her caught up in all of this, though he planned to give her a much more heartfelt apology when visiting her grave the next day. 

“Hey, Peter? Thinking about something?” 

The brunette was reeled from his thoughts back to the world when he finally glanced up and met the two gazes on him. 

“Just.. glad to be alive again.” Peter breathed. He let the tension leave his body for possibly the first time since that day, sinking into the pillows that surrounded him. He felt safe. He felt happy. And most of all, he felt loved. “Happy to be home.” 

“Yeah.” Tony agreed, a matching smile slinking onto his face. Steve massaged his arm gently, his eyes closing in satisfaction from the atmosphere. “We’re happy about it, too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, just a reminder, I'm taking drabble and fic requests now on my tumblr! (Spideypoolhell.tumblr.com)  
> Can be any pairing, any genre, any maturity. I'd really love to get a fanfiction tag up and running :)


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